The Pit
by Wolfwhispers
Summary: The Pit, an illegal wizarding underground of fights. While dog fighting may rule in the Muggle world, dracon fights rule in the Wizarding. Harry finds himself in this brutal world and must do anything necessary to survive, but betrayal lurks everywhere.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** The Pit, an illegal wizarding underground of fights. While dog fighting may rule in the Muggle world, dracon fights rule in the Wizarding. Harry finds himself in this brutal world and must do anything necessary to survive. With enemies and betrayal on all sides, Harry has more than just Voldemort's presence in The Pit to keep him occupied.

As always, I do not own Harry Potter or anything made by J.K. Rowling. Dracon fights and whatever else is new probably belongs to me and needs permission to be used in future fics.

Most spells were found on websites though I did create a few in this and other chapters. Some are fake that I found on various Harry Potter websites so if one happens to be yours, well, it was found on the internet. If you really have a problem, email me and I'll remove it.

* * *

Ron watched his family with a forlorn look of detachment. His mother was busy cooking the small feast of food for the Order after they were done with the meeting. As she cut up vegetables, she hummed a small tune that had Ron smiling softly, marveling at the sheer normality his mother was portraying at the moment. She always was able to shut the world off as she cleaned or cooked, Ron mused.

"Mum?" he asked softly.

Mrs. Weasley gave a small jump and turned to him. "Good heaven's, Ron, you gave me quite the start." Ron offered a small chuckle. His mum had really been gone. "Now what was it, dear?"

Ron shrugged. "Well," he said carefully, "Harry will be coming over tonight."

Mrs. Weasley suddenly looked tired, her eyes weary and her body sagging. "Forcing that poor boy into this god for saken home, especially after Sirius… Well, I… What on earth could Albus be thinking?"

Ron's lip twitched upward as his mom ranted. "About that," he interrupted. "I wanted to know if we could go to Diagon Alley tomorrow to get our school supplies." Before his mother could say no, Ron quickly said, "Me, Hermione and Harry will be real good! Plus the Order will probably be there, not to mention we need to visit Fred and George in their new shop."

Mrs. Weasley narrowed her eyes. "Ron, with times being as they are…"

"I know what times are like," Ron said, unable to hide his exasperation. "After the last few years, how could I not know?"

"Ron," Mrs. Weasley said softly, putting down her chopping knife and swooping him up in a motherly hug.

"Mum," Ron whined, though he did not fight the hug. "And going to Diagon Alley will help Harry keep his mind off Sirius," he added, knowing that would work. Whatever helped Harry his mum would go for.

Mrs. Weasley gave him a shrewd look. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing, young man."

Ron gave a sheepish smile. "Is it working?"

Mrs. Weasley gave a small huff. "I would have thought with the twins gone you would have stopped feeling their influence."

"Who say's I can't think up stuff to get out of trouble?" Ron asked a bit indignantly. Really, he had some good excuses too.

His mother just laughed and kissed him on the forehead. "Alright, dear. I'll see what I can do about going to Diagon Alley tomorrow."

"Brilliant! You're the best, mum." Ron gave his mother a quick peck on the cheek. Mrs. Weasley gave a small laugh as she heard Ron say, "I can't wait to take him to that new shop!" as he ran up the stairs.

"Hermione!" Ron shouted enthusiastically as he burst into one his best friend's room. "Oh, hey, Ginny," he said absentmindly to his younger sister who was sitting on the bed next to Hermione.

She rolled her eyes at Ron. "Hello to you, too," she muttered sarcastically.

Hermione, looking a bit amused at Ron's actions, gave him a small smile. "What is it, Ron?"

"We get to go to Diagon Alley," he said cheerfully. "I got mum to agree to letting us go since it would help Harry not think about staying here." Ron frowned at the room he was in. "Grimauld's place is effing creepy."

"Only for the weak of mind," Ginny said with raised eyebrows. "Not scared of a few cobwebs, are you?"

"Course not," Ron snapped. "Just don't like the odd dark object here and there. Heard Shaklebolt had to re-grow three fingers because a watch bit them off."

The girls winced, thinking about how painful that must have been for the auror.

"Harry will be coming tonight, right?" Ginny asked.

Hermione nodded. "I do hope his relatives weren't too mean to him, especially after Sirius died."

Ron snorted. "This is the Dursley's you're talking about." He gave a small shrug. "Well, what's done is done." Hermione blinked at how mature Ron was looking and acting. Ron, not noticing Hermione's look, continued. "We have to take Harry to the new joke shop the twins made, not to mention this new store down by Quality Quidditch Supplies. Bill told me there's some really wicked stuff in there like miniature pyramids that have an actual layout of a real one and real four leaf clover's for good luck. Do you know how rare those are?"

"So this is a shop filled with worldly items?" Hermione asked in interest. "Do you know if there are any books from Greece? Their magic has always fascinated me, especially with most of their religious belief's benefiting magic."

"Well, I don't really know." Ron scratched his cheek in thought. "Guess we'll just find out, eh?"

Hermione and Ginny mumbled their agreements; though the loud shriek's from Mrs. Black interrupted anything else they might have had to say. Once the screaming was muffled, they all realized one thing.

"Harry's here," Hermione said, eyes alight with excitement at seeing her friends but still overshadowed with worry.

"Perhaps we shouldn't say anything," Ginny said after a moment of tense silence. "You know, about Sirius."

Ron shook his head. "No," he said resolutely. "Remember last year? Don't know about you guys, but I don't want a pissed off Harry. He's damn scary."

Ginny snorted while Hermione nodded knowingly. "Let's just not bring it up first, ok?"

"Bring what up?" a voice asked, causing the group to jump about a foot in the air.

"Bloody hell, Harry!" Ron laughed, getting over the shock as he turned to his best mate. "Sneak up on us and scary the bloody day lights out of us, will you?"

Harry shrugged, cracking a grin as he surveyed his friends. "Constant vigilance, mate. Constant vigilance."

"Moody picked you up again, didn't he?" Ron asked. At Harry's nod he asked, "Did old Mad-Eye try and jump you?"

"Got a good black eye for it," Harry said, grinning. "Though I think from the angry stunners from him I might have gone a bit overboard."

Hermione tutted disapprovingly as she looked Harry up and down. Ginny was also assessing Harry's body with a critical eye. He was still as skinny as ever, though that seemed to just be with his build. Small muscles adjourned his body, showing that he had done some working out and the extra weight and height showed that he had hit puberty and had eaten well, even if he was only an inch taller than Hermione. He was also a light brown, signifying he had been out in the sun for a while.

"Now what was this about not bringing up something?" Harry asked, eyes gazing into their own deeply from behind his glasses.

They all started talking at once, trying to offer some excuse or another. Laughing, Harry shook his head at them.

"Sirius, you mean?" They all looked a bit guilty. "Don't worry about it," Harry said softly. "Sirius," he gave a small pause, his betraying his sadness before putting on a mask of neutrality. "Sirius is gone," he continued strongly. "I know that, and I couldn't let that get to me, especially this summer now that I know what needs to be done."

"Needs to be done?" Hermione repeated softly.

"The need to get stronger," Harry said, his tone just as soft. He lowered his emerald eyes, looking thoughtful.

"Harry, please tell me you didn't train yourself this summer just to defeat V… Voldemort," Ginny said, giving Harry an intense look. "Please tell me that."

Harry surprised them all with a bark of laughter. "I doubt half a summer would put me on par with old Tommy." He gave them a grin. "But training has to start somewhere, neh?"

Ron looked Harry up and down. "I suppose so, especially if you start looking any better, mate."

Harry wiggled his eyebrows mockingly. "Checking me out, Ron?"

Ron scoffed. "Not on your life, though I can't say the same about these two." Both Ron and Harry turned to the blushing Hermione and Ginny. "So, what _did_ you do?"

Harry shrugged. "Moped for the most part," he added, sounding bitter. The others frowned, wondering if he was angry at himself. "The Dursley's were kind of freaked out by Moody's orders and did the only logical thing."

The others waited.

"Which was?" Hermione asked, impatient.

"Locking me out."

"What!"

Harry shrugged, completely uncaring. "Glad they did, though I might not have thought that the first week. So long as I went in for lunch and stayed in the house after dinner, the Order didn't need to be bothered."

"Of course they should be bothe--!"

Harry held up a hand to stop any rant Hermione might have worked up. "I honestly don't care, Hermione," he said coldly. "We all know they don't like me and the feeling is mutual." Harry licked his lips as he ran a hand through his hair. "I worked in the garden mostly, though I've always sort of done that during the summer. And I also…"

"Also?" Ginny pressed.

"Well, it's going to sound stupid to you guys…"

"Out with it, mate!"

Harry held up his hands. "Alright, alright. I sort of baited my cousin's gang into chasing me around all summer."

There was an incredulous silence.

"Dare I ask why?" Hermione asked, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Told you guys it would sound stupid," Harry said knowingly. "Well, I wanted to get faster."

"By having them chase you?" Hermione said with an air of 'Harry, you're an idiot'.

Harry shrugged. "They used to chase me all the time as a kid and it always made me really fast." He ignored the outraged scowls on his friends' faces. "And, well, it worked. I did normal exercises. You know, sit ups, push ups and all kinds of ups." Harry grinned. "It was nice, actually. Being out in the sun all summer actually made me a bit healthier, not to mention I had enough food to make even Ron full."

Ron blushed.

"So they at least fed you like a human being, right?" Ginny demanded.

"No, but your mum did."

"Mum!"

"That reminds me, I really do need to thank her for sending me food all the time," Harry said with a small smile. "When's dinner?"

"Should be soon," Ron answered. "The meeting should be done with so I suppose she's setting up."

"Good, because I'm ravenous."

Sure enough, no sooner did he say that the call of "Dinner!" echoed throughout the house. Getting up, Hermione pulled Harry to the side as Ginny and Ron bounded downstairs.

"Harry," she said seriously. "I know you might be sick of hearing this, but are you sure you're all right?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm fine, Hermione."

"Harry."

Harry sighed, looking a little uncomfortable, his face falling. "I miss him so goddamn much," he admitted, not needing to say his name for Hermione to know. "It hurts more than anything…"

"But?" Hermione pressed, knowing there was something more.

"But I know I can't focus on him right now," he said quietly, looking around the room as if someone was watching them. "After the war I'll grieve. Hell, I'll grieve for everyone, but not now, not while there's still a fight going on. I need to be stronger, Hermione, even if that means doing some things that I might not necessarily like."

Hermione gave him a bright smile. "And I believe this is the point of no return, Mr. Potter."

Harry raised a brow at that. "No return of what?"

"Of being a boy again." Hermione gave another smile, though this one was sad. "You're becoming a man."

"Then does that mean people should be calling me The-Man-Who-Lived?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, ha ha. Very funny, though I might have been wrong if you start being immature again."

"I'll only be immature if Ron is acting that way," Harry retorted.

"Ron, amazingly, is maturing as well," Hermione said, sounding a bit incredulous at what she was saying.

"I noticed," Harry agreed. "Though we're not the only ones growing up." He eyed Hermione up and down. Hermione gave him a light smack as his eyes traveled a little too far down. "What, I can't give you a look over but both you and Ginny can to me?"

"Woman's rights," Hermione retorted as Harry swung his arm around his shoulders and she did the same, though with a bit more trouble since he was taller than her.

Harry gave a snort. "Woman's rights my arse."

Hermione giggled as they walked down the stairs. She turned to him. "Remember, you know you always have Ron and me to talk to."

"I know, Hermione." Harry gave her an encouraging smile.

"And you know you don't have to wear cheerful masks, don't you."

"Of course." Harry looked dead serious. "But right now I'm happy having my friends offer support. The masks only come up when needed."

"I wish it wasn't needed."

"We don't always get what we wish for," Harry said, "even if it does suck."

* * *

"They'll be murdered in their sleep," Molly Weasley whispered in horror.

Harry glanced at the red headed woman, pure amusement written on his face. "If they do they'll go out in bright orange and sparkles," Harry whispered to Ron, causing the taller boy to snort.

"I have to admit, even this is crazy!"

Why Are You Worrying About You-Know-Who?  
You SHOULD Be Worrying About  
U-NO-POO --  
the Constipation Sensation That's Gripping the Nation!

Harry's shoulders were shaking from his silent laughter. "This is absolutely brilliant!" He glanced at Hermione, noticing her dropped jaw and incredulous look. Ginny had already gone in.

"Well," Mrs. Weasley paused, looking as if she actually needed help to continue.

"Perhaps it be best we hurry things along," Tonks said to the group, taking over where Mrs. Weasley had left off.

Her suggestion was met with excited murmurs of agreement as the children rushed inside. Mrs. Weasley gave her husband a stern look.

Wilting under the gaze, Mr. Weasley consoled his wife. "I'll be sure to talk to them, Molly love. The boys, you know how they are."

"I know all too well what my sons do," Mrs. Weasley said, looking contrite.

Mr. Weasley patted her on the back. "They are good kids, Molly, they all are."

Mrs. Weasley amended. "Yes, I know. Now, let's go see what those two imps of ours have done with their life."

Inside it was pure and absolute chaos. Joke items covered ever inch of the store. There were even a few on the floor that, if stepped on, would turn the victim a certain color up to half an hour. Suffice to say there were quite a few multicolored people.

The walls had bookcases that hosted prank item after prank item. From vomiting pastels to eyebrow growing pills, it had absolutely everything. Fireworks were hosted on the other side and had a small warning about small kids not being allowed near them.

Harry looked around in amazement and laughed as a firefly made out of sparklers flew over to him and buzzed curiously in his face for a moment before exploding into a miniature firework finale.

"Enjoy that, did you?" a voice asked right beside his ear.

Harry grinned in amazement as he watched the light show finish. He turned to a twin by his side and glanced at the name tag. Although it said 'Forge', Harry wasn't all that sure it really was Fred.

"It's brilliant," Harry answered. "Fred?"

"No, I'm Forge."

"And I'm Gred!" the second twin announced as he jumped over to Harry and leaned against his brother. "How's it going Harry?"

Harry shrugged. "Alright," he answered truthfully. "Things could be better, ya know, but I'm going with it."

The twins nodded in sympathy before breaking out into large grins. "Well, I know one way that can make you happy!"

"Which involves pranks, of course."

"Of course, dear brother! Would we have any less?"

Harry watched the two go at it back and forth for a while and wondered if he would get dizzy any time soon.

"Er, guys?"

"We have to include the Gapping Gastles for sure!" 'Forge' said eagerly.

"And of course let's not forget the Sherbet Lemon Firework Balooza!" 'Gred' said just as eagerly.

"Guys."

"Do you think he'll need the Sardine Knockouts?"

"Can't be too careful, what with Snape haunting the halls."

"Good call, Gred."

"Why thank you, Forge."

Harry shook his head and was just about to walk away when a large pile of merchandise was practically thrown into his hands. Not expecting the sudden weight, amount of items and Weasley twin hugs, Harry nearly collapsed.

"Easy go there, our loveable benefactor," the twin to his right said. "And by the way, I'm actually Fred."

"But I thought I was Fred!"

"No, you're George. Don't you even know your own name?"

"With you as a brother it's not that easy."

Fred stuck his tongue out at George and turned to Harry. "Hey, what are you doing?" he demanded.

Harry, who was in the process of putting all the sweets, fireworks and whatever else he had back, paused midway, looking like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Putting it back?" he said questionably, looking innocent.

"Putting it back… Putting it back! I don't think so!" Fred and George all but roared, practically drawing the attention of ever customer.

"Fred! George!" their mother barked. "You stop badgering Harry right this instant!"

"Yea, mum!" they called back.

Fred sighed. "Bless her. Always knew she loved the black haired Weasley more than the rest of us red heads."

"Tears for the gingers," George said with a depressing air. "Anyway!" He turned to Harry. "Look, Harry, you're out benefactor and friend. We owe you everything, so don't you dare expect to be paying for anything. Now take it."

"But…"

"Take it!"

"Alright, alright," Harry laughed, amused by the big deal the twins were making. "So, what does this thing do?" Harry asked, holding a packet that held tiny flying animals. There was a small hawk, bee, duck, occamy and phoenix. They were each about an inch big and were different colors.

"Fireworks," Fred supplied. "Just squeeze them and then throw them and run. They get into the closest persons face and provide a colorful distraction."

"And this… Is this the portable swamp you guys used last year? Have to say, that had to be the best thing I had ever seen."

"What was the best thing you ever saw?" Ron asked as he came up to them, holding a large bundle of joke items.

"The swamp from last year," George said, eyeing the items Ron held. "That'll be three galleons and a knut."

"What, but I haven't got three galleons!" Ron replied indignantly. "What about a sibling discount?"

"We'll cut off the knut, then," Fred said indifferently.

Ron scowled and grudgingly started putting stuff back.

"Don't worry about it, Ron," Harry whispered to his friend as the twins went back to work. "You can share this load with me."

"Wicked," Ron breathed, taking a packet of candies that caused boils. "Hey, you want to go check out that new store I was telling you last night?"

"The one that Bill told you about? Sure. Let's go get Hermione first."

"Right."

The two walked toward Hermione who was gazing at some sort of floating pile of goo that ranged from every single blue color. Her face showed she was clearly impressed.

"Phenomenal. This is some impressive magic."

"For that, you can have it for free." George came up from behind her, grinned innocently, and grabbed the light teal colored blue and watched as it slowly turned into an icy blue.

Hermione instantly turned suspicious.

Fred noticed the look and took it out of George's hand and put it in a small bag for safe keeping. "It's perfectly safe," he said sincerely. "We got the idea from those muggle glow lamp things that dad brought home one night."

The twins proceeded to tell them how they had made the goo like substance and how they charmed it to last at least a year to float and change colors.

"So you reckon you about done?" Ron nudged Hermione a few times.

Slapping the hand away, Hermione gave Ron an exasperated look. "Yes, Ron, I'm done. We can go to this store you've wanted _so _badly to see."

"Yes! Come on, then." Ron proceeded to drag and pull an amused Harry and Hermione out of the store.

"Where are you guys going?" Ginny stood near the entrance where she was looking into a small cage in the corner that had tiny little moving balls of fluff. They were called Pygmy Puff's that the twins were apparently breeding.

"Going to a different store," said Ron, shrugging indifferently.

"Mm hmm. And I suppose you were about to leave without me, were you?"

"It's not like we were sneaking away from you," Ron sad indignantly.

Ginny eyed him coolly. "Right."

Not wanting a fight to break out between the two siblings, Harry intervened. "Let's just go now. No one was trying to keep one person from going, alright? Your parents are outside so we'll just tell them where were going. It's by Quality Quidditch Supplies, right?"

"Yea," Ron confirmed.

"Alright then." Harry clapped Ron on the back. "Let's go, then."

Grinning at his best friend, Ron took the lead and headed over to his parents. The others could see Mrs. Weasley's face turning stern. A few words from her husband, however, had her soften and nod with physical reluctance.

"What was that about?" Hermione asked, nodding toward the Weasley parents.

"Mum is pretty tense," Ron said, looking grim. "She really doesn't want us to be here but knows it wouldn't be good to keep us locked up so much. She's…"

"Worried," Harry finished. He sighed, glancing at the woman who was so much like a mother to him. "Well, how about we spend a bit more time checking out that store and then stopping off for a quick ice cream before leaving. That way your parents don't have to worry and we can still have a good time."

They all nodded in agreement.

"Alright, show the way, Ron."

"Er, right."

"You don't know where it is," Hermione stated.

"I know it's by the Quidditch store!"

"Then lets head over there," Ginny said impatiently, taking the lead and heading over there.

Looking at each other, the golden trio shrugged before following. The shop Ron had wanted to show them was only to shops away from the broom shop and had large, gold letters that said 'Antiques of Old.'

Ginny peered into the window and almost squealed in joy. "Oh, look! They actually have magical mirrors in here. Do you have any idea how rare those are?"

"Forget window shopping, let's go inside," Ron urged as he entered the store. Hermione followed first before Harry and slowly Ginny.

Inside, the Weasley girl returned to the mirrors in interest while the other three scattered. Each looked around in awe at the many items. It looked as if a bit of everything from the world had been put into this tiny store.

"Woah. Harry, you've got to see this." Ron gestured wildly for Harry to come over. Obliging, Harry went over to see what was so amazing. "Check it out. It's a miniature Quidditch field strategy build," Ron said imploringly. "You just tell the players your idea for a strategy and the flyers do it and then you see if it could work or not. I would love to have this."

"Would only work if you made captain," Harry pointed out.

Ron shrugged. "Would still be nice to have."

"Yea…" Harry trailed off as his eyes scanned an item behind Ron, right against the wall next to the cash register. "Is that a rug?" Harry walked over to the rug that was guarded by a glass top.

"That would be a flying carpet, my young friend," the man behind the cash register said. He had dark skin and bushy gray beard that needed more taming than Harry's hair. He also wore a light brown turban around his head. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

Harry regarded the carpet with new interest. He had always loved any form of flying, even the Thestral ride from last year, but hearing about a new mode of flying made him curious. The flying carpet was a royal blue color with purple and gold designs. The designs were meaningless twists and turns, circles and even squares, though the front and back of it sort of reminded Harry of the design on a cobra.

"I thought flying carpets were banned in England," Hermione said with narrowed eyes.

The man chuckled. "Actually flying it is illegal, but owning one with a permit is quite legal, little lady. I see your young friend is quite entranced by it. What about it, sir, does it interest you?"

Harry nodded. "It does, though I'm afraid to say I won't be buying it, as I have no use for it."

"What a shame, especially since it is quite legal in most parts of the world. What a shame England, Canada and the Hawaiian islands banned their marvelous uses in the air."

"Don't even think about it, Harry," Hermione warned, steering him away from the carpet and toward some other sort of trinket.

Harry looked surprised. "What, you don't honestly think I would buy that, do you? I have absolutely no idea how to even use one and I don't even need one."

"Just making sure, you did seem a bit starry eyed," she teased.

Harry shrugged. "What can I say, I love to fly."

They resumed looking around the store, which was probably temptation at its worse. Most items were a little expensive and others just had no use other than to decorate. Despite these facts the four children were in awe of the items.

Harry was looking over some smooth stones that had an animal painted on it. They could be used to summon the animal for a short time, and only one time, for defensive purposes. It seemed like a good idea, especially with the way things were with Voldemort and his Death Eaters. He walked over to Ginny, who had wandered a bit around the store at first, had returned to the mirrors.

"What's so special about these mirrors?" he asked her softly, startling her enough to cause her to jump.

"Harry, don't scare me like that," she scolded.

Harry grinned. "Sorry, didn't mean to sneak up on you like that."

She nodded. "It's alright. I'm just so into these mirrors. Each one is so different. This one here can show you in any image you want. I was having a bit fun with changing my hair color."

Harry walked in front of the silver mirror and stood next to Ginny. They both looked completely normal. Ginny grinned impishly.

"Give me black hair and Harry red," she demanded.

Immediately the image changed. Harry laughed and ran a hand through his hair. "I look weird with red hair."

Ginny shrugged. "I don't think so; I think it looks quite nice."

Harry smiled. "Thanks. Black is a good color for you too." Ginny beamed as Harry turned back to the mirror. "Give Ginny blue dots on her skin."

"Hey! Well, if you want to play it that way, Potter. Give Harry horns and red skin."

Harry laughed. "I look like the devil. All I need is a tail."

"You asked for it," Ginny warned. "Give Harry a red pointed tail."

"Play it like that, huh? Give Ginny a pig nose and a big belly."

"Harry, I'm absolutely horrid!" Ginny laughed.

"I thought that was the point," Harry said sweetly, stepping away from the mirror and gazing at the rest. "Now, what else do these do?"

Ginny picked up a hand held mirror. "This one gives tips on how to do your makeup or hair." She pointed at two mirrors that looked identical. "Those, when given to two people, act as a way of communicating. You just…"

"Say the persons name and they pop up," Harry said dully, sighing a bit.

"Harry?" Ginny said gently. "Harry, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, Gin, I'm fine."

"Don't give me that, Harry Potter," Ginny said with a motherly sternness. "What's wrong?"

Harry sighed again. "Sirius had given me something like that during Christmas. I hadn't known at the time what it was and I never checked. If I had known I could have checked up on him." Harry shook his head, determined to stop his ramblings before he turned into the sad little boy he had been at the beginning of summer. "And, well, it just sort of reminded me of him," he finished lamely.

Ginny nodded. "I'm so sorry, Harry. It's understandable for you to get emotional when thinking about Sirius."

"Its fine, Ginny," Harry said a bit sternly, not wanting to think about the rights and wrongs of getting emotional. He getting emotional was never a good thing. "Come on, let's get out of here. "Oi, Ron, Hermione. Ready to leave?"

Hermione, who had been looking at wizarding maps, came over immediately. Ron, who was still drooling over the miniature Quiddtitch field, took a bit more urging. The thought of ice cream made him move a bit quicker, however.

"Ah, I love the fudge cauldron flavor," Ron gushed as he ate more of the black colored ice cream.

"I still think that's just another way to call it chocolate," Harry whispered to Hermione. "So many names for the same thing."

Hermione giggled. "Eat your strawberry griffon sundae, Harry," she said instead.

Harry huffed. "Only if you finish your Cerberus shake," he returned.

Hermione giggled and happily obliged as the four of them sat outside on one of the tables under a large yellow umbrella. The adults were happily eating at the table next to them. The sun was shining brightly, indicating the hot summer air wasn't about to go away anytime soon despite there was only a week before school started.

"I wish everyday could be like this," Ginny said, eating her own algae mint ice cream.

The others agreed quietly, though Harry kept his eyes peeled for any sort of danger. He could tell that the Order members were doing the same thing, what with the way they kept looking around every now and then. It was rather pitiful to see that they were so obvious about it. The only one Harry could give any credit for was Moody, but Harry supposed with as much paranoia as that man had, he had to be quiet about it.

"Keep your wits about you," Moody whispered to the four kids. "I have a bad feeling about this. Too many people school shopping and Knockturn Alley looking more abandoned than a cemetery. Something ain't right here."

The group tensed. Harry placed his half eaten ice cream to the side, looking thoughtful. The others just ate their ice cream with tense shoulders. Harry flicked his eyes this way and that, no longer caring if he was being paranoid like the old auror. The man had a point. Knockturn did look a bit more abandoned than usual. After about ten minutes of nothing happening, Harry relaxed his guard.

BOOM!

Hermione and Ginny screamed while Ron cursed. Harry, ignoring the others, had jumped up and stood in a crouching position with his wand at the ready. His face was completely neutral. It was only the pure anger in his eyes that could show how he was feeling.

"Death Eater's!" Moody barked. "Everyone, to yer positions! Tonks, get these kids out of 'ere now!"

"Righto!" Tonks called back, ushering the group towards the Leaky Cauldron.

She needn't have bothered because as soon as they even took a step forward dozens of black robed figures swarmed out of Knockturn Alley, curses already flying.

"Protego!" Harry and Tonks shouted, erecting a strong shield to stop the incoming spells.

The front Death Eater whispered orders to the others, causing them to break away in small groups.

"They're trying to surround us and the other shoppers," Harry whispered to the others, summoning two tables and upturning them to provide a physical shield.

"We have to get out of here," Hermione whispered fearfully.

High pitched laughter filled their ears as they heard the torture curse being called out. Harry's eyes, which had been burning with anger, were now as cold as ice. "Bellatrix," he snarled.

"Harry, don't," Hermione begged, placing her hand on his arm.

Harry shrugged it off. "Get your wands out," he barked. "What's the matter with you? If you want to get away be prepared!"

"No need to sna—" Ginny got cut off as the two tables were destroyed by a large blasting curse, sending them tumbling away.

Harry, going with the force, immediately jumped up and fired two curses before he even landed. "Animata! Derpenseesan!"

The first curse, a pale white color, hit one Death Eater straight on. For a moment, the others were unsure if it worked or not, but as soon as he started fumbling around and waving his arms and tripping, they realized he was blind. The second one was powerful enough for the others to actually feel the magic. It shot pure lightning. The Death Eater it had been aimed at managed to dodge in time, however the one behind him was hit full blast and shrieked in agony before falling to the ground and had gone into shock.

"How did he do that?" Hermione asked the group quietly, wide eyed.

"What do you think you're doing?" Tonks snapped at them. "Either help or get out of here!" She was busy holding her own against two other Death Eaters, dodging this way and that before finally sending a sickly purple curse that had streaks of black. It caused a Death Eater's robes to disintegrate before he cast the spell to remove the damage.

Nodding, the group brought out their wand and sent multiples of "Stupefy!" only to see them be useless against shields.

"Avada Kadevra!" a Death Eater shrieked.

Ginny screamed as Hermione brought up her wand and summoned the two tables Harry had used earlier. They were blown apart and crashed into the three teens. Hermione screamed as a sharp piece tore deeply into her cheek and made her bleed heavily.

"Hermione!" Ron rushed over to his friend.

"Silly little children should learn not to mess with the adults," the Death Eater that had shot the killing curse sneered. "Crucio."

Before Ron could even act, he was hit with excruciating pain and he was screaming in such a way that it clearly expressed raw pain. Never before had he ever felt pain such as this. White hot needles were poking into his every fiber. And just as soon as it had hit, it was over. Ron was panting horribly and twitched every so often. Despite this, he just had to know what had caused the Death Eater to stop. The sight that met his eyes made him sick enough to vomit.

Harry was standing over the man, looking horribly sick but determined at what he had done. The man's clothes had been shredded, leaving him in nothing more than underwear that barely covered anything. He had cuts absolutely everywhere. They were at least an inch deep and were quickly turning purple from infection. It was obvious that if the man didn't die from loss of blood, the infection would kill him.

Harry, still looking ill, spat to the side and turned away. "Get out of here," he commanded, erecting a shield made out of stone from the ground and watched as the Order and aurors fought with the Death Eaters.

They were losing. The Death Eaters just kept coming in more and more numbers. The aurors that were here had only been on standby, making the others wonder where in the name of Merlin was the Ministry. The shoppers had all fled or were currently hiding in dark corners, trying to remain unseen.

"Harry," Ginny pleaded. "We can't leave you."

"Then help!" Harry snapped coldly. "Or better yet, get Hermione to safety. Look at her."

Ginny paled as she saw Ron helping a weeping Hermione pull out a chunk of glass from her cheek. It had gone all the way through and even cut her tongue.

"Ginny!" Harry barked. "Don't just stand the— Oof!" Harry was blasted away from the others and sent flying toward some upturned chairs and broken glass.

"Why don't you listen to your own words, ickle baby Potter?" a voice cooed mockingly. The horrible vision of Bellatrix Lestrange emerged from the crowd. She was the only one unmasked, much to her pleasure.

Harry narrowed his eyes dangerously. "Ardere Oculus," he hissed, sending a brownish red spell at her.

Bellatrix dodged, laughing as she did so. "A dark spell, baby Potter? Oooh, you are a big boy if you're trying to destroy my eyes!" She laughed. "Crucio!"

Harry rolled to the side and launched a few stunners. Those were knocked away easily enough and he paid for it with a deep cut in his back by the simple slashing motion sent by the sadistic witch.

"You're going to have to do better than that," Bellatrix sang, sending a few torture curses his way and missing each time.

"And you need to try something new!" Harry snapped, continually dodging without missing a beat. "Reducto!"

"Protego!" Bellatrix snapped, her face taut with irritation.

Harry smirked. "Aquilus Flatus!"

The shock and absolute rage on Bellarix's face as she was blasted away by a dark energy blast was more than enough to satisfy Harry for the moment. As the crazy woman stood and slashed her wand in frantic and crazy motions, Harry was blasted back as well from the silent curse and was sent flipping in the air and through a window in one of the shops.

Bellatrix stood, panting in rage, eyes bright with the burning embers of hate. "Filthy little mudblood," she spat quietly, venomously. "Use one of Black family curses will you!" she screamed, spittle flying about and causing the majority of the fighters to turn around in fear and, for some, surprise at her rage.

Inside the shop Harry had been blown into, he sat up with a painful groan as he landed and heard a crack. Feeling himself, he could safely say he hadn't broken anything. Shaking his head and flinching at the fallen glass, Harry let out a startled yelp as he was hit with a broom. After years of being whacked by his nasty aunt, Harry definitely knew what a broom felt like.

"Get out! Get out!" The man with the turban, who had helped Harry in The Antiques of Old shop, was currently screaming his lungs off. "Out! Out, before they find me!" he screamed in a frenzied panic.

"Stop! Get off… Oh for the love of… Stupefy!" Harry barked, hitting the man dead on from his sitting position on the ground, though he did notice the light was strangely dull.

Watching the dark skinned man fall to the ground, Harry leaned back with a sigh, wincing a bit as he cut his palm on some glass.

"Bugger," Harry mumbled, shaking his right hand the send glass and blood droplets flying. He sighed once more as he heard Bellatrix and other Death Eater's battle it out outside and try to get into the store. Suddenly frowning, Harry looked down as he felt a twitch on his butt. "What the…?"

There was another twitch, though this one was more of a jerk as Harry was all but startled onto his back in astonishment. The ground was moving! Scrambling up, the ground actually lifted off the ground and made him balance awkwardly, hands in the air and legs jerky. Gapping, Harry realized that he had banged into the glass guarding the flying carpet and was now standing on the carpet itself.

Harry noticed that the droplets of blood from himself were on it, glowing a soft yellow before melting into the carpet, causing it too to glow a soft yellow. Unsure and completely oblivious to the battle outside, Harry settled uncomfortably on his knees and stared down at the carpet.

Amazingly, the 'front', or the 'face' of the carpet actually turned toward Harry, startling him enough to blink in shock. Then, much more to Harry's astonishment, the front creased as if in a frown. Then, suddenly without warning, it bucked violently like an enraged horse.

"Woah!" Harry was, for at least the third time in not even within ten minutes, thrown away.

Huffing, Harry stood quickly and glared at the carpet before wincing and turned to his side. A thick and rather long piece of glass was digging into his side. Pulling it out carefully, Harry let out a gasp and tossed it away and returned his line of sight toward the carpet.

It was flying around in circles impatiently and, to Harry's interest, with obvious confusion. He had no idea that something such as a carpet, even if magical, could portray emotions. It kept twitching and the front seemed to keep glancing outside the broken window at the battle, making Harry's heart jolt in remembrance, or at Harry himself. It seemed to quiver anxiously and made its way with a sort of aloofness before jerking back toward the destroyed window, only to change its mind.

Before Harry could even begin to understand what was happening, the whole front of the store was cracked over with a bright blue curse from several Death Eater's. Roars of approval and vengeance from the surrounding fighters, both Death Eater and auror, met him.

The outside was pure chaos, several buildings already aflame. Several bodies littered the floors, both Death Eater and auror alike. Four wands pointed at Harry. Harry steadied his own wand

"It's over now, baby Potter," Bellatrix said, her eyes promising pain.

Harry scoffed. "Can you never think of another combaaaack! Woah!" Harry was rushed at and picked up at a startling speed by the flying carpet, throwing him into the air and catching him by surprise, causing the squealed break in the speech.

"Get him!" Bellatrix screeched.

Spells of various colors were shot at him and even a spiked chain hurtled toward him. Harry brought up his wand, the shield charm at the tip of his lips, but was cut off as the flying carpet gave a rough jerk and sent him sprawling on his stomach as the carpet zoomed over the stunned Death Eater's and into the sky, hovering over Diagon Alley.

The carpet began to shake, causing Harry to grasp the front tightly as it began bucking in the air, coincidentally dodging each spell from the enemy. Struggling to get a grip, which was quite hard since he was being thrown all over the air before being caught, Harry finally gave a yell of anger.

"Incendio!" Harry yelled in anger, managing to shin the back of the carpet and singed the edges. Immediately it started smoking, causing the bucking to get more violent. "Stop freaking out!" Harry shouted over the roar of the wind in his ears from the constant flying and bucking.

Seemingly listening to his words, the carpet halted in the air. Before Harry could even begin to understand what was about to happen, the flying carpet gave one final buck of anger and shot like a rocket toward the clouds and out of sight, far away from Diagon Alley. Over the roar of the wind, Harry noticed an item slip out of his pocket. Trying to snatch it, Harry groaned as he moved too fast on the carpet and missed it by at least five feet.

Harry watched the alley disappear beyond the clouds as he clutched the carpet, glaring angrily at it. "You ruined everything," Harry hissed. "I could have killed her."

The flying carpet gave an uncomfortable jerk, reminding Harry of various cuts and bruises he had, not to mention being hit by at least one Cruciatus Curse while he tried to protect his friends. He was in some pretty bad shape and was already wearing a blood soaked shirt. He was lucky that it was black.

Harry rested his forehead against the flying carpet, not even sure where he was going or how he could control it. From its actions already, Harry wasn't sure it would ever be under control. The singed back had already stopped smoking and had somehow healed itself. It was disturbing, and Harry was dreading where he would end up.

"Bloody hell," Harry mumbled, glancing at his wand in horror noticing for the first time that he had a crack running up and down the wand, almost thick enough to break it in half. He gave it a tentative wave, only to receive a shock and burn on his hand. It took all his will power not to drop it and lose it. "Great," Harry muttered, "just great."


	2. Chapter 2

As always, I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, Voldemort would have taken over the Ministry by at least the beginning of the sixth book and Harry would be more kickass.

* * *

Harry had no idea how long he had been flying on the temperamental carpet. He had fallen asleep an hour after pointless arguing and flying from the non responsive carpet from magical exhaustion and blood loss. The spells he had used were draining and he had barely trained with them at all.

By the time Harry had finally woke up, he had stopped bleeding but the carpet seemed to be losing energy as it was rather sloppy in the air and slowly drifted toward the ground. They were near a bay of some sort with a short bridge that reached a small island in the distance. The stores and houses were messed closely together, making up a small town. As it was dark, the carpet was able to land safely in a deserted alley where it gave one final defiant buck, not nearly hard enough to force Harry off, before falling to the ground lifelessly.

Harry sat crisscrossed on the ground, staring at the carpet with a vacant expression, annoyed and beyond confused at the whole situation. First Diagon Alley had been attacked and then he had been carried away by a flying carpet that didn't even seem to like him. He was wounded and had a cracked wand with no idea where he was.

Harry was having an inner struggle not to scream and rage at the loss of killing his Godfather's killer and being stranded at some bay. He took a deep, deep breath and stood. As much as he wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all, he had learned over summer, after reviewing most of his life and decisions, he could not afford to act like a petulant child in times like this.

Looking at the rug a bit unsurely, Harry nudged it with his foot. It remained immobile. It had probably used up all its magic to get away, though why it took Harry along for the ride confused him. Perhaps it had been the blood.

"First things first," Harry muttered, looking at his cracked wand. He would need to find a wizard town or find a way to contact the Weasley's or Dumbledore. Looking at his wand, Harry had a sudden idea and lifted it into the air and waited. A full minute had passed and still nothing.

"Where the heck is that Knight Bus?" Harry muttered angrily, glancing at his wand.

Perhaps it didn't work if your wand was broken. Putting it in his pocket, Harry cast a grudging glance at the carpet. Weighing the pros and cons, Harry rolled the rug up and carried it under his arm before making his way out of the dark alley.

He was lucky that he was wearing muggle clothing; otherwise he would have gotten some questions about wearing a robe. The blood stains only made his shirt look like juice stains and the cut on his side was covered by the rug at his side. Walking quickly, but not fast enough to look like he was running from someone, Harry headed toward the sea, hoping to get some information from one of the sailors.

"Excuse me," Harry said to a large, burly looking man with a bushy red beard.

"Aye, lad? Ye need somthin'?" he asked, not bothering to stop working and barely looking at Harry.

"I was wondering if you could tell me how far I am from London?"

The man gave a grunt before spitting into the sea. "That 'bout five hours bus rid. Go north and you'll reach it. Just have to find the right bus schedule or get your mummy to give you a ride."

Harry frowned at the man, not liking his tone at all. He glanced at the small island with the rather skinny stone bridge a few ways away in the distance. "And what's that small island there?" Harry pointed. "The one with the bridge."

This time the man actually did look up. "Wha' you talkin' 'bout, eh?" he demanded. "Shoot, boy, ye better no' be one of 'em crazies. There ain't no bridge." He gave a sneer. "Beat it, boy."

Harry sneered at the turned back before softening his gaze in confusion. Moving away from the man, Harry glanced back at the island, wondering just what the hell the man was smoking. Wondering, or perhaps hoping that it might be a wizards settlement, Harry made his trek toward the stone bridge that began at the edge of a small cliff. Watching from a distance as two people in front of him, Harry felt his eyes widen in surprise as they turned into blurs. Their blurs raced across the bridge at an alarming rate and were gone in less than a second.

"So it is a wizard's village." Harry grinned and stepped onto the bridge.

Immediately he felt a rushing sensation and found himself on his knees on the opposite end. Looking around in shock, Harry blushed with embarrassment as several witch's and wizards passed him with a sneer for his muggle attire. Standing immediately, Harry rushed to the side, curious to where he was.

It certainly wasn't like Diagon Alley, that was for sure. All the shops were rather gloomy looking, not to mention most of the shoppers looked like Dung's type of friends. They all had a shady, distrustful look about them that warded off some of the more innocent shoppers, especially the children.

Harry suddenly had a foreboding feeling as he glanced into a window and saw cursed candles for sale. This was probably one of those more questionable towns that Mrs. Weasley disapproved of so much. Harry could see why, especially with the way the shady customers looked like they had no problem with slitting a throat or two.

Harry edged away into the shadows, wondering what on earth he could do. It was probably late, what with the lack of customers, save for the dark characters, and the black night. A few shops were even closed. Harry felt for his wand and felt a rush of determination. He would not lose himself to second thoughts about wandering in this town. He had no other choice.

"Excuse me, but you wouldn't happen to know where the wand shop is, do you?" he asked a woman standing next to others. She had dark brown hair that was pulled into some elaborate style with a strange hat that looked old fashioned and had several bright colored feathers. The same could be said about her robes as it had a corset style and rather outrageous frills on the bottom. The other two were dressed the same.

Her demeanor turned cold as she spat at him. "How dare you speak to me, let alone look at me, mudblood," she hissed. "Be gone before I curse you."

Startled by the hostile tone, Harry stumbled back, completely bewildered as she turned her back on him as if he was worth even less than the dirt he was standing on, the other two woman giving him disdainful looks before they too looked away. He turned away with narrowed, angry eyes. Racist bitch. Harry somehow doubted she had any real talent with a wand. She looked more like a trophy wife. However, with his broken wand, he couldn't risk a confrontation. The whole place was too shady for his liking.

Wandering through the town and avoiding the few outside vendors that were packing up, but still wiling to sell, Harry almost sighed in relief as he found a wand shop. The shop looked like it was made out of rotten wood where faded out words, Wands of Power, could be barely read. The shop looked closed. The windows were tinted dark but Harry could see a small amount of light inside.

Opening the door, Harry shifted the limp carpet carefully as he entered. It almost looked like Ollivander's shop. The front was the same, though it was just the depressing atmosphere that made it different. There was also nobody at the register. Harry almost expected another crazy old man to jump out at him at any second.

"Hello?" Harry called softly, keeping his eyes and ears open. "Hello?" he said again, this time a bit louder when no one answered. Annoyed, Harry called again. "Hello?"

"Hold your thestral's!" a man barked from the back. "Or better yet, leave! I'm closed."

"Can you please help me anyway?" Harry called. "My wand is cracked and I really need it fixed as soon as possible."

"Well, ain't that a shame," the man snapped, finally coming to front. He was wiping off his face and his hands were covered in ash. He had a pale complexion with dark gray hair and dull green eyes that had a hint of blue in them. "Come back a different day, I'm closed." He glared at the door. "I told that damn Willy to lock the door on his way out. That boy is completely useless," he muttered. He glanced back at Harry. "What, still here? Get out!"

"Please, just look at it," Harry snapped back, thrusting his wand forward. "I have no where to stay and no protection."

"Too bad for you," the man said uncaringly, pushing Harry's hand away. "Your fault for being out at eleven. Come back tomorrow, and lose the rug. You look like a freak."

Harry growled and shook his head. This man… Wait, why was he widening his eyes?

"Harry Potter?" the man breathed. His eyes narrowed in anger and began shouting. "Get out before I'm caught with you! Damn kid, you'll get me in trouble if those damn Death Eater's catch me with you."

"Are you assorting with Death Eater's?" Harry demanded.

"OUT!" the man roared, actually throwing Harry out by the back of his shirt before throwing his carpet out too, which he had dropped in shock.

Harry sat on the ground and glared at the shop. Great, now what was he to do? Getting up with as much dignity as possible, Harry ignored a group in the corner that was looking at him funny. Patting his bangs down to cover his scar, Harry moved away from the wand shop.

* * *

Harry was at an all time low and he knew it. With only eight galleons in his pocket, he had no place to stay. His muggle clothing also didn't help matters, as this place was full of prejudice bigots. He was currently lying behind of some trash bins, well out of view. He leaned against the lifeless flying carpet, wondering what he could do. He didn't dare fall asleep; paranoid he would be pick pocketed or have his throat slit.

He rubbed his hands, chilled from the cool breeze coming from the sea. Sighing, Harry twirled his wand carefully, boring it with a gaze that was far too deep on such a young man. Ears perking up at the sound of a crash and angry shouts, Harry looked around the trash bins carefully. The dark night made it hard for him to see, but there was enough light from a mysterious magical source that was able to let him see a few cloaked men with masks enter the wand shop.

There was no one in sight and Harry was pretty sure that if someone had heard, no one would come to help. If Harry hadn't noticed that the masks were Death Eater masks, he would have stayed away, but as he needed information and just down right hated any follower of Voldemort, he needed to know what was going on. Someone could get hurt. He had a feeling the wand maker might be in trouble, especially with angry shouts coming from the store.

Placing the flying carpet aside, Harry brought out his wand, frowning in irritation at the crack as he crept along the sides of shops in the shadows and got closer to the wand shop. Harry kept his head low, keeping to a crouch position as he walked into the shop. All the others were in the back.

Harry glanced once more at his cracked wand and put it in his pocket. Still keeping silent, as he wanted, _needed_, to be unseen until, or if, the moment arose. Grabbing a random box, Harry pulled out a wand. It appeared to be about ten inches and was a light brown color. It didn't even let out a spark.

The next one was better, though not even close to good. It let off three sparks. Harry didn't have time to grab another wand as he heard the Cruciatus Curse being cast and the sound of the wand makers screams.

Disillusioning himself, though it seemed much harder and straining with this wand, Harry hurried to the back, still keeping to the shadows and corners. He peeked in the back and saw four Death Eater's standing over the screaming form of the wand maker.

"Ready to talk yet?" the Death Eater who cast the curse asked with a smirk. "We're in no hurry, are we, mates?"

The others all chuckled in amusement, each hoping to continue torturing the poor man.

"Just spill, old man. We know you have the goods Arcturus is looking for."

"I don't have anything," he wheezed, glaring up at the man. His hands formed fists as the Death Eater's guffawed at his plight.

"You know, I'm really glad you said that." The Death Eater sounded completely smug. "Cruic— Ow!" He turned to the others angrily, rubbing his raw hand. "Which one of you idiots shot a Stinging Curse at me?"

The others denied doing such a thing.

"Then someone else is here. Fan out and find who it is!" the leader barked. "As for you, old ma--" He didn't even have time to finish since the wand maker had used the moment the Death Eater turned his back on him to his advantage.

"Crucio," the wand maker intoned with an ugly sneer. "Let's see how you like it."

The others shot spells in return to help their leader. Each were blocked by a shield. Even the wand maker was shocked.

"Someone's disillusioned," one hissed and waved his wand. "Denudo!" A low breeze filled the room and Harry was now completely visible. "Is that…?"

"Expelliamus!" Harry interrupted.

His curse was blocked and that's when all hell broke loose.

"What the hell are you doing here?" the wand maker barked, his face completely furious as he traded curses with two while Harry had the other two.

Harry was doing horribly, already getting a cutting curse to the arm. The wand he had taken was performing poorly and barely had any strength. He spent most of the time dodging and running in circles. He spied a bundle of wands and tried to get closer to them.

"Helping you," Harry retorted, annoyed.

"I don't need yer blasted help!" The wand maker was pushed back a few feet and dodged a nasty spell that caused the wall to melt.

"I can see," Harry returned coldly. "Bilus Marito!" he snapped, making a pointing motion with his wand. He scowled in disappointment as a pathetic black vine with weak looking thorns crawled toward his opponents.

"Incendio," the Death Eater smirked, only to falter as the vine continued to crawl toward him. "Fax Facis!" he and the other Death Eater cried in fright, going for a flamethrower spell.

With both distracted, Harry quickly cast a hair growing charm that caused the Death Eater's hair to grow at an alarming rate. It shot out of the cloak that covered him and grew all around the man, making him look like Cousin It.

"Enodis," Harry said with a smirk, groaning as only a few knots were entangled in the hair since the wand was so weak. It was more than enough to make the man become immobile and fall in a flailing ball of thick hair.

"Crucio!" the second Death Eater shrieked.

This time it hit. Harry screamed as he writhed on the floor, heartbeat pounding horribly as the spell ended, leaving his skin twitching.

"Crucio." Again with the pain and the unoriginality. "Just imagine the reward I'll receive, Potter, when I bring you to the Dark Lord," the Death Eater boasted as he stood directly over Harry, wand pointed. "Cruc—!"

"Reducto!" Harry screamed, putting everything he had in it.

The man screamed as he was blasted away, a bleeding hole in his stomach as he fell unconscious before he even landed. The Death Eater wasn't the only one screaming. The wand maker was screaming bloody murder.

Before Harry could even turn toward the man, a wand was poking into his neck. "Don't even think about it," the voice hissed. "Drop your wand and turn around slowly."

Tense, Harry dropped the wand and slowly turned. The wand was placed under his chin now. Harry glanced at the wand maker, unable to hide a wince as he saw that the man was shaking horribly with a missing leg that went up to the knee. The leg itself was on the other side of the room. The wand dug into his neck, drawing his attention back to the Death Eater.

"Imagine my luck when all I needed was to pick up some cargo, I run into the great Harry Potter himself!" The Death Eater sounded young, just like the others. These Death Eater's couldn't be any older than twenty-one. "The Dark Lord shall reward me beyond any could have imagined."

Harry glared, a feeling of dread curling its cold tendons around him. This was the end, but why oh why did Death Eater's always have to brag about what kind of reward they would get from Voldemort?

The Death Eater started looking like he was running on adrenaline, sweating as he did as he gripped his wand tightly. "This is the end. Avada Ka--"

"Avada Kadevra!"

Harry, who had been tense the whole time and prepared for the end, gapped as the Death Eater who had had him at wand point dropped dead from the blast of green light from behind. Harry jumped away from the dead body as it dropped and looked at the owner of the curse.

The wand maker was leaning heavily against his work desk near the wands Harry had tried to reach before. His leg was bleeding all over the floor and he was panting hard. He was also incredibly angry and sad looking. It was a bit confusing when his face expressed anger but he started sobbing as he looked at his foot.

"I'm dead!" he shouted, startling Harry. "Dead!" he roared again, collapsing on the ground in aguish.

There was a tense silence as Harry watched the man. The only sounds came from the sobbing wand maker and the drops of blood hitting the floor from one Death Eater. It was the one Harry hit with the Reducto Curse. The other one was still near Harry's feet. The other two were no where to be seen, though Harry suspected they had fled.

Harry shifted uncomfortably, gaining the wand makers attention. "You," he snarled, eyes red and puffy. "This is all _your _fault."

Harry sneered. "In case you forgot, I saved your life!" he snapped. "I wasn't the one who brought Death Eater's here. So what if you lost a foot? At least you're breathing!"

"Not for long," the man snapped, regaining his composure as he tried standing up. He failed with a painful groan and glared at his missing leg.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, helping the man up.

He shrugged Harry off, almost falling over again. "You heard those damn cult members," he answered. He sighed. "If you won't leave, at least go into the cupboard to your right and bring out a few glasses.

Complying, Harry felt his eyebrows rise at the sight of several bottles of alcohol. Grabbing one at random, he also pulled out a cup and took it over to the wand maker.

"Er, I hate to ask this, but who are you?" Harry finally asked. "Your name isn't on the sign…"

The man scoffed. "I ain't like those braggarts who post their names everywhere. It brings unwanted attention and you're always followed." He sighed. "Call me Bert."

"Bert," Harry repeated. "Care to tell me why you think you'll be killed? Just go into hiding."

Bert sneered at Harry. He ignored the cup and took a swig from the bottle itself before grimacing. He cast an annoyed look at his leg, which had been spelled to stop the blood flow. That didn't stop the pain, however.

Bert swished his alcohol. "I have cargo that the Dark Lord wants." He glared at Harry's narrowed look. "I ain't selling for that wizard," he sneered. "My cargo was meant for Arcturus Gail." Harry had a blank look. "Wouldn't expect such a light wizard to know of him," he sneered, though his expression softened at the dead bodies. "Well, a shaded light wizard at least."

"So you think this Arcturus will kill you if you don't bring him what he want?" Harry asked, ignoring the light jibe.

Bert snorted. "No. Arcturus is a very weak wizard, but he's got connections. He's the puppeteer of a branch of the black market. He gets no respect or fear, but the bodyguards he hires does." Bert ran a hand over his face and gave Harry a deep look.

Harry gave his own look, not liking the fact that he could practically hear the gears running in the wand maker's head. "What?"

"If I die, you die."

Harry gave Bert a shrewd look. "What brings you to this logic?" He didn't like the way Bert was staring and he had the feeling the wand maker knew something he didn't.

"I saved your life." Harry could actually feel the sadistic glee.

Harry closed his eyes and groaned. He brought a hand to his head. "No. No, no, no!"

"Yes, yes!" Bert snapped angrily as he poked Harry in the chest with his finger. "You owe me a life debt."

And as soon as he said it, Harry could feel an invisible weight surround him, almost like invisible shackles. He shuddered, wondering if this was how Wormtail felt everyday. He tried to resist the feel, but everytime he did, the feeling got heavier.

"Alright," Harry grunted, immediately feeling a difference and a lighter weight. He cursed in his mind. "What do you want?"

Bert took another chug and eyed Harry up and down, sneering at his appearance. "You'll be going into The Pit and delivering my cargo."

"I'm not delivering your cargo," Harry snapped before gasping for breath as he felt an invisible hand choke him. It got harder and harder. His vision began to grow dark before he gasped out, "Ok, ok." He took a deep breath, heaving as he glared at Bert.

Bert shrugged. "That's the life debt taking effect if you don't comply. If you fail, you die, as well as I since I made an oath to Arcturus, or if you run or do anything to not comply, you die. That's the way life debts happen once a demand has been made."

Harry swore.

"Yep." Bert took a smaller gulp this time. "Now let's clean up these dead bodies. I don't want their stink ruining my store." He gave a strange sneer before chugging the rest of the bottle and looking at Harry expectantly. "Well, get going!" he barked. "I don't have a foot anymore. And get rid of that damn carpet of yours."

Harry jumped as he turned around, startled by the sight of the flying carpet hovering behind him, twitching every so often as if in a rage.

"It looks pissed," Bert said before shrugging. "Get to work."

* * *

Harry truly hated life. Bert had warded the wand store and let no one in. Harry was not allowed to send a letter or use the floo. If he left that meant he denied the life debt and would die. If he sent a letter, the owl could be traced and be taken away, once again dying because of the incomplete life debt. Harry had already stayed for two days with Bert, trying to learn all he could about this Pit.

Its true name was Barathrum, but was more commonly called The Pit. It was the ultimate underground of fights in the UK. It was filled with hundreds of thousands wards and spells that have been added for more than a thousand years and had evolved quite a lot. It was located under the town Harry was staying in. It was truly under the water, though Bert couldn't tell Harry what it looked like. The Pit was only opened once every five years.

Harry wasn't sure what sort of fights went down in The Pit, and Bert wasn't telling. He also wouldn't tell Harry what was in the package that needed delivering. It was at least a foot and a half in length on all sides and was a plain brown box, though heavily warded. The package was kept in a safe place at all times while Harry was learning from Bert.

Bert was, at the moment, trying to give Harry a new identity. His wand was healing at the moment in a potion that would heal the crack. It would be complete in the morning, the same time he would be leaving. He had until the seventh of August, which was in five days counting today, to complete the life debt. Once in The Pit, he had to find some sort of area that said or represented Arc Possessions and find Arcturus.

"Remember, don't get into any fights," Bert commanded, sitting in a chair with his leg bandaged. "Keep your head down but don't look like a pushover. Be intimidating but not cruel. You don't push people but you don't take crap from anyone. You get what I'm saying?"

Harry nodded, completely serious as he sat back with his arms folded. He was wearing a pair of black fighting pants that had many, many pockets. He also had a black shirt that had nothing special about it, other than the fact that it was made by wizards. Bert had destroyed his clothes, saying he would be killed for even associating with muggles. Aside from destroying Harry's clothes, he gave him these to wear. These were all the clothes he had, aside from eight galleons. Bert promised he'd give him some food and potions to help him hide while he was there. Thankfully, he would only be gone for up to a maximum of four days, hopefully less.

"We've discussed the laws of The Pit and unacceptable behavior," Bert continued.

"Unless of course others break them," Harry pointed out. The Pit was nothing but illegal chaos with dark wizards at every corner.

"Which is why you must always be on guard," Bert grunted as he stood. "Now, there isn't much else I can say about The Pit, and I've already explained how to reach that bastard Arcturus." Bert scowled, thinking of how he had been forced into the situation. Even if he wasn't killed by the man, he would receive the Dementors kiss for this if caught.

"So, what now?" Harry asked. "My new identity?"

"Shut it with the sarcasm," Bert said irritably. "You want to be killed on sight because you're Harry Potter?"

"Of course not."

"Then don't give me any lip. Come on, to the bathroom."

Harry helped Bert settle into the large bathroom, which was more like a lab, which meant potion supplies. A good three hours later Harry walked out, hating Bert for putting him in this situation more than ever. He hoped for Bert's sake that his new look wasn't permanent because he would kill the man after this was all done if it was.

The top part of his hair was still the raven black that was messed up, but the bottom half, which had been messed up by a dye mistake, left it a dark gray, almost black, but was still noticeable. It had lengthened into a ponytail that nearly reached his shoulder blade. A tight string wove around most of the ponytail and left a tuft poking out at the end. Harry's face was forced into a narrower, aristocrat look that he had not fully inherited from his father. His eyes could not change completely, strangely, even from spells and potions. They were simply a darker color now. Glamours were destroyed at the entrance of The Pit and would be useless.

He certainly didn't look like himself, especially based off of last year with his tan skin and larger build from working out and puberty that had not fully hit last year. His scar had been covered with a skin growing potion. It rubbed off in twenty-four hours and would need to be reapplied. The same happened for the 'I Must Not Tell Lies' scar on his hand.

"Much better," Bert said, eyeing Harry up and down as he was scowled at. "Now for a wand."

"I already have a wand," Harry snapped.

"One that can be identified by any Death Eater that might be there," Bert snapped back angrily, annoyed with how naïve the boy was.

Sure the boy was pretty smart and was a quick reactor, but this boy, this young man knew nothing about the underworld; heck, didn't even know about the real world. Bert knew Harry could hold his own in a fight, but once things got dirty; he would go down in a matter of seconds unless he fought back just as dirty. Bert didn't care one way or another in all honesty, but he did care whether or not Harry delivered the goods. Unless Arcturus died, and the life debt was off, as well as the oath he had given, he would not be sleeping well and prayed to whatever god was out there Harry grew a cunning bone. He was at least pleased when the boy nodded grudgingly, understanding the fact.

"Good. Now, your wand was Holly with phoenix feather?" Harry nodded. "Well, I don't have many phoenix feather wands. I don't use the common cores. Why do you think my store is called Wands of Power? Because I use more powerful cores, that's why. Get up now, and come to the shop."

Scowling, Harry unconsciously tugged on his new ponytail and followed, casting a glance at his wand that was still in its healing process on the table.

"Take this one," Bert commanded. "Seven inches, White Ash with phoenix feather." Harry gave it a wave, getting nothing. Bert took it back, actually looking pleased. "Well, you're definitely not the epitome of light like everyone says you are. That wand is as light as they come."

Harry didn't know what to say to that. He just took the next two wands, which were the last of the phoenix cored wands, which didn't work. Strangely enough, just like Ollivander, Bert got excited. Maybe wand makers got off on tricky customers.

"11½ inches, Pond Cypress with hyrda scale." This time he got a single blue spark. "11½ inches, Black Cherry and fur from a black fox." Nothing. "13 inches, Norway Spruce with Horntail horn that was dusted into powder." This time the wand had a bad reaction and gave Harry a minor burn.

"Never was good with Horntails," Harry hissed, holding his hand.

"Stop complaining. Here's a 12¼ Maidenhair with venom of a runespoor." Again nothing. "Hard customer… Very nice."

An hour passed by before Bert finally became irritated. Tricky customers were always fun, but he had a time limit and a hope to live.

"Try this one. 10 inches, Weeping Willow with basilisk scale. This one had been hard to get." Harry gave it a wave. It felt dead in his hands but shot off dozens of sparks. "No… not by the look on your face. Forget these upfront wands; let's get to the back where my older wands are."

"Aren't wizards only supposed to have one chosen wand?" Harry asked.

"Bullshit," Bert said bluntly. "Wizards and witch's may not be able to have dozens of wands that all work well or better than the last, but we can have more. Let's take twins, for example. They both get a wand, different cores and wood. Then two more wands are made with a different length and wood, but this time it has a scale from the same snake. If it works for one it works for another. Brother wands."

Harry shifted uncomfortably at the term.

"And then reaching of age or power can also give you a new wand. Your next wand may or not be more powerful than the last. It's all luck in this case. It's only a rumor spread that wizards can only have one right wand to stop them from buying another for illegal purposes. Anymore questions?"

"No."

"Good." Bert moved a few wand boxes to the side and pulled out a few dusty ones. "9 niches, Eastern White Pine with liquidated fire from a Greyling dragon." Again nothing. "12 inches, Holly and griffon feather." Nothing. Bert sighed, rubbing his head curiously. "If this last one doesn't work, I may have to make one from scratch, which we don't have time for, so you'll end up having to take one of the better ones."

Harry prayed that this next one worked.

Bert smirked at Harry's look. "Just pulling your leg, lad. We still have three more, not one, before we come to that decision."

"Oh, because that makes me feel loads better," Harry said sarcastically, taking the next wand from Bert. It was 13¼ inches, Ivy and Chinese Fireball dragon heartstring. Some smoke but otherwise nothing.

"Two more," Bert said a sneer. "10½ inches, Yew and hardened Phoenix tears."

When Harry gave it a wave, this one definitely gave off the most heat but few sparks. It had worked the most out of all of them, leaving Harry unsure as he stared at the white wand that reminded him of Voldemort's.

"Last one." Bert stared at this one. "I've had this the longest. 13 inches, Elder tree and Thestral blood."

Harry glanced at Bert at the mention of Thestral's, his eyes trailing the pure black wand. Hesitating for only a moment, Harry felt a rush of energy as felt both an icy coldness and a burning hotness ran through him. Black and white sparks shot out of the wand, intermixing like the yin and yang symbol. Harry was completely awed by the sight and feeling. This was definitely better than his first wand, filling him with the sense of completeness.

"Curious," Bert mumbled. "Simply curious."

Harry's awe was turned to dread. "Dare I ask what's curious?"

"The wand, of course. What did we just do?" Bert shook his head in exasperation. "The Elder tree is the tree of life and death. It represents the beginning and the end, as well as creativity and renewal. This wand was made by my great grandfather, and he was the only one in the family ever to make a compatible Elder wood wand. He loved to listen to that old Hallow story of an Elder wand that was unbeatable…"

"Never heard of it," Harry said helpfully, seeing Bert's questioning gaze.

"Well, not sure if the legendary Elder Hallow wand is real, but this one is. Because Thestral's are the only creature in existence that are connected to both the living and the dead, it was a compatible core. Satisfied?"

"Very," Harry said quietly, staring at his wand intently.

The room turned silent as the both of them gazed at the beautifully made wand. It was as if a brief sense of peace had been made with the coming together of owner and wand. It was of course ruined as the flying carpet flew into the room and seemed to glare at the two humans, making them both uncomfortable from the terrible scrutiny of the flying carpet that just never seemed to leave them alone for the past few days.

"You are one creepy carpet," Harry comment, watching the flying carpet twitch in annoyance.

He barely had a chance to run before it flew at him with more fury than a scornful woman on her time of month.

* * *

Remus Lupin paced back and forth in the basement dwelling beneath Grimmauld's Place. This was the one place that had been yet to even be touched by some sort of cleaning device. All other rooms had at least been made fit for living in, but this place, this retched room, was a place that not even animals deserved to be in. The walls simmered in the candle light, reflecting watery grim coating it. The dust that covered the entire room tortured Remus's sensitive nose, but he ignored it with his continued pacing, thoughts clouding his mind.

"Remus, are you down there?" came a loud voice.

Head jerking, Remus stopped his pacing and turned to look up the rickety old stairs that led to the main floor. In the door frame was Molly Weasley, looking down at him with barely concealed pity. Her eyes were red from crying, and Remus knew she was just as sad as he that Harry was gone.

"My, is it already time for dinner?" he asked with a shaky smile, barely able to hold back a grimace as he felt the wolf inside him, Moony, urge him to go with the woman and fill his empty stomach. He absolutely loathed it when he could feel the wolf's nudges and urges, even if he was about to do the very act the wolf wanted to do.

"Yes, dear," Mrs. Weasley said with a smile as she took a tentative step forward, though not quite near the steps. She was obviously waiting for him to come up, rather than come down to this depressing room that was reserved for only a beast.

Remus went stiff as he heard Moony growl in anger as he thought of himself as a mindless beast. "I'll be up in a moment, Molly," he offered her, back turned so that she didn't see his face scrunched up in a grimace. "It'll only be a moment," he assured her when he didn't hear her leave."

"If you're sure," Mrs. Weasley said hesitantly. "Be sure to come up before the food cools."

Remus waved her away, still not turning around. When she did at last leave, his eyes snapped open, and he knew that his eyes had turned yellow. Moony was trying to come out, and he wasn't happy.

"Why are you coming out now?" Remus whispered, sinking to his knees on the dusty floor, not at all bothered that the shadows in this room seemed to slink away as if they were alive. "The full moon is still five days away."

All he received was a vicious snarl, not that he expected anything else. He couldn't communicate with the wolf in the way of human words, but simply with growls, grunts and the occasional howl, though that was so rare no a days.

Remus pondered on the strange behavior of his inner beast, yellow eyes traveling around the room. There were only a few candles that gave off a soft glow, but that didn't bother Remus. He could see perfectly well in the dark when Moony emerged or when it was close to the full moon, but usually that was the day of and before the full moon. Eyes still wandering, Remus traced little lines in the dust with a finger. Unconsciously, he made a little zigzagging line that looked like a lightning bolt and felt his breath hitch.

In the deep corners of his dark mind, Moony growled in delight.

Remus paused, unused to the wolf making such a calming sound. Usually all emotions were wild and savage with no conscious mind behind it, but now it almost sounded like the wolf was becoming – dare he say it? – tame.

"Harry is gone," Remus let out after a few minutes of silence.

Another angry growl was given, this time sounding like the old Moony.

"And so is Sirius, and he can never come back," Remus said a bit louder. He had no idea why he was hurting the wolf with these words, especially when he knew these truths hurt him just as much.

No sound came from Moony this time, but Remus had an inkling feeling that the beast was prowling back and forth, just as he had done mere minutes before.

Remus gave a rough grunt as he got to his feet and walked around the basement, trying to find some sort of device that could occupy his mind. No such item appeared, and once more he had to endure the wolf's angry barks.

Remus bit the inside of his cheek as he ran a hand over his gray hair before finally giving into his growling stomach and growling wolf. He headed up the stairs, but with a deliberate slowness as if to annoy the wolf, and finally settled in the kitchen.

"Ah, there you are, Remus," came the good natured voice of Arthur Weasley.

Remus gave a small smile that seemed more like a grimace. "Hello, Arthur." He took in the worn look the redheaded man had. He had dark circles around his eyes and his usually strong and straight shoulder's had a slight slump. "Hard day?" he asked cautiously.

Mr. Weasley shook his head, eyes glancing down at the depressed children that were already seated at the table. Ron, Hermione and Ginny were talking in hushed tones that only Remus could pick up. "Not so bad today," he offered as he accepted a steaming cup of tea from his wife. Planting a loving kiss on her cheek, he sat down next to the grizzle werewolf and stared at him carefully. "Are _you _alright, Remus?" he pressed, leaning closer to him. "Is the wolf bothering you?"

Remus lowered his eyes, suddenly very aware that his eyes had not ceased being yellow. Cautiously, he glanced up into the kind eyes of Arthur's brown ones. They were a chocolate brown that held so much warmth and understanding that never expressed and sort of pity. Remus was truly impressed with this man, and knew Harry had made the right choice in befriending Ron. The Weasley father always held a soft spot for Harry, and Remus knew the man was good for the boy. He was almost like a father to Harry, but Remus wondered if Harry knew how much the Weasley father truly loved and cared for him.

Remus smiled a bit wider this time and placed a hand on Arthur's shoulder. "You're a good man, Arthur," he said quietly. "I'm very grateful that both Harry and I know you."

Mr. Weasley blinked at the response, not expecting such an answer to his question. "Remus," he said slowly, "are you alright?"

In the dark corner of his mind, Moony growled encouragingly.

"No, Arthur, I'm not," he admitted before allowing an amused smile to tug at his lips as Arthur blinked in surprise. "I need to go away for a few days."

"What?" Arthur asked, just a bit too loudly for the rest of the occupants turned to look at them. Clearing his throat and blushing the Weasley red from behind his ears, Arthur said, much more quietly, "What do you mean? The full moon is in only a couple of days."

"I'll be back after the full moon," Remus promised, already standing up but Arthur pushed him back down. Remus was surprised by how strong the man really was.

"Remus, you are no danger to us," Arthur said softly, hand squeezing his shoulder. "We support you no matter what, and we will be there for you even when you are at your worse."

Remus felt his breath hitch. Mr. Weasley, while not too much older than him, was still at least twenty or so years older than him, and could easily have been his father. The warm comfort and soft words were words that Remus himself had never heard from his family after becoming a werewolf, and to hear it from another person that wasn't his family was just too much. It was in that moment Remus truly realized how weak he was, for he truly had to fight to draw the redheaded man into his arms for a hug.

"It's not that," Remus said, taking great care not to allow any emotion into his voice. He lowered his eyes. "Harry needs something more than just a wallowing werewolf that does nothing."

"You know as well as I do that Harry doesn't see you as some useless werewolf," Arthur said sternly. Remus once more had to fight the emotions he felt when he heard Arthur treat him as if he were one of his own children. He idly wondered if that was how Harry felt each time, but he pushed that thought down right away.

"I'll be back after the full moon," Remus said again, this time using his inhuman strength to keep Mr. Weasley back. "There's something I need to do."

And before anyone could say anything, the old werewolf left. He took nothing with him but the ripped clothing he had on his back and his wand.

He had a new goal to accomplish, and this time, as Moony gave a righteous howl in his mind, Remus couldn't help but agree with the wolf for the first time in his life.

* * *

AN: Moony (Remus) needs to be more badass than a whimpering dog with its tail in between its legs. That's what me thinks.

Happy Thanksgiving!


	3. Chapter 3

Ginny Weasley bit the inside of her lip as she held the wrapped package in her hands. It was a nasty habit she had picked up when feeling nervous or guilty. And, unfortunately, it was a habit her whole family knew of, so she had retreated to the room she shared with Hermione in Grimmauld's so that no one would notice. The door was locked, much to her relief, for she knew if anyone found her, she would have spilled everything, though a part of her really did want to tell someone what she was doing.

So far all communication with Harry had failed. Owls simply came back the next morning, looking confused and disoriented, which immediately led to the conclusion that wherever Harry was, he was surrounded by wards. Fawkes the Phoenix was still a little hatchling thanks to the Killing Curse back in the Ministry and would still need another month to recuperate, so he was no help.

Ginny's plan was simple. Send an owl every single day until; at last, Harry left the wards. There was no doubt in her mind that The-Boy-Who-Lived was still alive. She knew how Harry worked. He would heal for only a small amount of time before worry took over and he took off once more, right into danger to save his friends. She knew he would try to get back to them, wherever he was. It was an interesting topic that she and the others discussed. Harry escaping on a flying carpet was an astounding thought.

Who would have thought anything from that suspicious little shop would be helpful? The whole shop was simply filled with interesting trinkets that, while amazing and interesting, were the type of items to be forgotten in a week or so. That flying carpet was proof, as everyone in England who owned one simply decorated their wall with one to be able to brag about having one. She had heard that the Malfoy family had fifteen flying carpets, but that was still a rumor. Ginny believed it. The Malfoy's always went overboard with anything, and it would be just like them to have so many items that couldn't even be used.

Ginny pursed her lips, ridding her thoughts of others. Right now she needed to do this. She needed to send this package, because she knew that this item could be the only thing that could provide some sort of contact with Harry, even if he were to be back under wards that not even a Phoenix could find. Inside her package was a single mirror. She had already stolen her mother's wand to put unbreakable charms around it before wrapping it. On her bed was the brother mirror that would allow her contact with Harry if he got it.

During the attack, when everyone had been overcome with fear and the heat of battle, Ginny had stolen the mirrors. It had been instinct, really. When she saw Harry soaring away on the flying carpet, face tired, bloody and shocked, she knew that she had to do something to help. And so she grabbed the two mirrors before anyone noticed. She desperately wanted… no, needed to help Harry. While she knew she wasn't entranced with a life debt, she still felt the magic within her calling out to help the young man that had saved her.

It was because of this feeling she told no on about her plan to contact Harry this way. It was also because she would like to be the one that got in on this adventure instead of just Hermione and Ron. While she loved the two, they, and Harry as well, had a habit of pushing everyone away when they should be asking for help.

"Please find him, Hedwig," Ginny whispered to the snowy owl in front of her as she tied the package around the owl's leg. If any owl could find Harry, it was Hedwig.

Hedwig cooed in response and puffed out her chest importantly. When at last the package had been attached to her talon, she took off out the window and into the darkening sky.

* * *

Hermione paced in front of the bed Ron was sitting on in impatience. She was terrified and still slightly in shock. The events of the battle, while having occurred yesterday, were still in her mind. How could they not, especially with what happened with Harry? Her best friend had disappeared into the sky on the same Magic Carpet that she had turned him away from in humor. At that time in the store, she had been having a good time, being able to hang out with her friends with no thought or worry about the war, but fate had taken an ugly turn.

"Did you see those spells Harry did?" Ron said suddenly, but only in a whisper.

Hermione's lip thinned in thought. "They were Black spells," she said thoughtfully. "I heard that awful woman, Lestrange, say so." Hermione allowed an amused smile to adorn her face. "The way Harry did it completely flustered her."

"And then she wanted to kill him even more," Ron pointed out bluntly. "But I think that's how Harry wanted it, to make her angry." He paused for a moment. "When did he learn all those spells?"

Hermione licked her lips, eyes unconsciously going to Harry's trunk. Ron saw the motion and lunged for it, grinning widely. "Oh, Ron, don't!" Hermione admonished, rushing over to grab him.

"Come on, Herms," Ron pleaded. "Maybe there's something that can help us find him, like the Marauder's Map."

"That only works for Hogwarts," Hermione pointed out, narrowing her eyes irritably at the sound of that ridiculous nickname Ron and Harry sometimes called her. "Ron!" Hermione tried to pull Ron's hand away from the already opened trunk. "You know as well as I Harry hates it when people butt into his private possessions."

"Well, this time it's important," Ron huffed, wrestling Hermione's hands away, but it was all for naught as Hermione gave his hand a nice smack. "Uhg, woman!" Ron scowled, retreating and holding his hand. "Hermione, it's not technically snooping if all we're trying to do is find something that can help Harry." Ron raised his eyebrows. "Something that might save his life," he added sweetly.

Hermione gave him a stern. Ron returned it with a look of innocence, hand still straying towards the trunk. Relenting, Hermione sighed. "Fine, but nothing too personal."

"Geeze, Hermione." Ron rolled his eyes. "S'not like we're gonna go through his brief's." He again ignored the stern look given.

"Look at all these," Hermione said after a while. Harry's stuff had been distributed accordingly. School items were in one pile, personal items in another, new things Hermione and Ron had never seen before in a pile and then clothes strewn about on the bed. "These look like books from the Black Library. Well, at least when we first got here."

Ron nodded, remembering when he arrived with the Order. The place was somehow even more disgusting than now. The occasional small dark creature, such as Pixies and Shadow Dwellers, littered the house, as well as cobwebs, dust and dark objects. The dark objects and books had been gathered by the adults right away, but not before Hermione and Ron managed to see a few. Ron knew it was impossible to hide any book from Hermione in a library, and he was pretty sure she had opened at least one, but had probably not read it. As curious as Hermione was about knowledge and books, Ron knew the Dark Arts made Hermione wary and slightly ill, not that he blamed her. She had a strange wariness and sense of knowledge that was much like a pureblood.

"How did he get these?" Hermione wondered aloud, saying exactly what was on Ron's mind.

"Maybe he took them before the adults found 'em," Ron suggested, turning a book over and grimacing at the picture shown. It was of a naked woman held down by various types of straps. A bit green in the face, Ron turned it back over. "How on earth could he even look at this?" Hermione hummed in agreement as she too put a book away. She looked a little white, causing Ron to wonder what she read. "What was it?"

"It's just the pictures," Hermione explained. "Each spell has a detailed picture, and I saw the one that Harry attempted to use on Mrs. Lestrange. It was a blinding curse that doesn't just blind you, but it rots the eyes."

Ron pinched the bridge of his nose. What on earth was Harry studying? "I don't know if we should continue with this," he admitted. "It's just…"

"Wrong," Hermione finished, gazing at the books. She licked her lips before looking at Ron squarely in the eyes. "We can't do that, Ron." She paused, because even though she wasn't reading or touching the books, she could feel the dark magic oozing from the books. It wasn't intoxicating, like most people told her about dark objects, but instead made her slightly sick. Hermione had read that not all witches or wizards could use dark magic and not feel sick. By looking at Ron, she knew he felt just as sick as her. "We need to study these," she continued. "To learn the counter charms and how to avoid these spells in a fight."

Ron picked up another book. He could see her logic, but when he opened the book and saw a picture of a man eating his own flesh, it took everything not to say no. "Alright, but I think I'll get sick after a while," he admitted.

"I know," Hermione said, placing a hand on Ron's shoulder. She glanced down at the book, eyes scanning some of the spells. "Most of these take potions to cure, and even then, there is a very small chance, if the spell is strong enough, to be cured."

Ron groaned. "So we'll be making potions all summer?"

Hermione glared at Ron, startling the redhead. "Ron," she hissed. "This is a war, and how many times have you asked to help? It won't matter if you can't do anything, like offer a simple blood replenishing potion to a dying girl." She allowed Ron to grimace a bit before continuing. "But first we need to find out how Harry got these books."

"Why should that be important?"

"Because whoever gave Harry these books will most likely have more," Hermione explained patiently, obtaining a thoughtful look. "Who on earth would ever give Harry these books?"

"Definitely not mum," Ron muttered, leaning on his hand in thought. "She did send him a lot of food this summer, though, so maybe she knows something."

"I doubt it," Hermione replied. "You know how your mum is when it comes to information."

"And knowing that Harry was studying dark magic…" Ron shivered, thinking of the earful his mother would give to his best friend. "Do you think Kreacher gave him the books?" Ron offered. Seeing Hermione scrunch her nose in irritation at the mention of the House Elf, Ron quickly said, "You know, since Harry got the house from Sirius, which means that any House Elf or item that belonged to the house also goes to Harry. That's just the way things are," he finished at seeing Hermione's face become sourer at the mention of how House Elves are given away like furniture.

"That's an interesting thought, actually," Hermione said, quickly standing up. "Come on; help me put these books away." Ron quickly helped place all the books underneath all of Harry's stuff in his trunk, nestled in with his invisibility cloak so that they were invisible.

"Where do you suppose Kreacher is?" Ron asked softly, not wanting to gain any attention as he descended the stairs with his best female friend. Anybody would be suspicious if someone willingly sought out the wretched elf, especially because of what he did.

"In the boiler room," Hermione said. "Remember?"

Ron shrugged.

When they got to the entry to the boiler room, both Hermione and Ron looked around cautiously. No one was around, and the few Order members that were here were in the kitchen, as usual. Not bothering to knock, they both entered quietly.

"Kreacher?" Hermione called softly, eyes falling upon the disgusting elf that was busy cleaning a dusty golden gargoyle statue with a damp and muddy cloth. "Kreacher?"

"Disgusting Mudblood calls to Kreacher," the elf rasped, not looking up from his task. With his back turned, Hermione and Ron tensed as they noticed the elf was covered in burns and cuts. All were healed, but it was clear that whatever happened to Kreacher it had been extremely painful. "Mudblood is not Kreacher's Master, but what does she want? Perhaps to torment poor, old Kre—"

"That's enough," Ron said irritably. "Kreacher, did you give Harry any books this summer?"

Hermione sighed. Ron was as blunt as ever but, surprisingly enough, Kreacher talked.

"Blood traitor no my Master, and Master has gone missing." A queer smile appeared on Kreacher's face. "Kreacher will have no more Master soon." He said it with both sorrow and excitement.

Ron scowled while Hermione paled. "Listen here, you," Ron snarled, finally losing his patience. "My best mate is out there, who happens to be your master, and we need to help him."

Kreacher finally paused in his cleaning. He turned around, finally, and both Ron and Hermione gagged. Kreacher's body was covered in scars, a floppy ear looked like it had been half torn off, his nose was even more crooked than normal and he was missing one eye. The other was a sickly yellow, but the elf seemed to be able to see well enough.

"Kreacher," Hermione whispered fearfully, "did you do that to yourself?"

"Mudblood and blood traitor wish to help Master?" Kreacher said instead. It spooked the two teens that the elf wasn't muttering under his breath like he used to. He gazed at the two of them distrustfully.

"Yes," Ron said quickly. "And as he's your master and he's missing, it's your duty as his elf to help out those who wish to help him. And don't lie," Ron said suddenly. "I know elves know when someone's lying about helping out your master."

Kreacher grimaced. "Kreacher sworn to help Master," he agreed with a sick grunt. Turning away, he opened the boiler and stuck his hand inside. Hermione gasped and made a move to pull him away, but Kreacher already pulled his hand out of the boiler. His hand was slightly burnt, but Ron and Hermione could see that it was beginning to heal. Elves were amazing when it came to healing, so whatever had caused all those wounds had to have been something horrid. "Use this," Kreacher rasped. "In attic, there is a portrait of Elladora Black. She does not move like a true wizarding painting. You'll know who she is when you see date…" Kreacher paused to cough. His throat was horribly raspy. "1850-1931… Stick this in her mouth." He tossed a silver cylinder object. It was very skinny and no longer than a finger.

Ron fumbled for a moment before finally holding it in his grasp. "What's in the portrait?" he asked suspiciously.

"Help needed," Kreacher sniffed before turning away and continuing with his pitiful cleaning.

Glancing at each other, both Ron and Hermione turned towards the exit, only to gasp as they took in the sight of Fred and George.

"Well, well," one twin, Fred, began.

"Lookie what we have here," George said, grinning.

"Two trouble makers…"

"Causing trouble."

"But one's a rule abiding know-it-all…"

"…and the other our dull headed brother!"

The two laughed and grabbed both Hermione and Ron by the hand and apparated them into their room before the shocked teenagers could say a thing.

"So what do you think, dear Fred?" George asked as he dropped Ron to the floor.

"I think we has a pair of no do gooders," Fred laughed as he dropped an equally dazed Hermione to the ground. He grinned at the two. "And it appears, brother, that they weren't going to tell us."

"No!" George mock gasped. "A part of the golden trio not telling anyone about their plan?"

Both Ron and Hermione scowled. They, along with Harry, absolutely hated the nickname. It was like a brand that made them out to be little goodie goodies that excluded all but the three of them.

"So what?" Ron demanded. "You gonna tell on us?"

Both Fred and George clutched placed a hand over their heart, looking completely scandalized. "Of course not!" the two exclaimed.

"Really, you'd think he knew us well enough by now," Fred muttered to his twin.

"Sad, really," George sighed as he took the silver cylinder away from Ron. Ignoring his protests, George studied the item. "It looks like a key to a Lock In."

"A what?" Hermione and Ron asked at the same time.

"A special room that normally only family members know of," Fred explained. "All purebloods have one. It was to hide us away from witch hunters long ago." He took the item from George. "We have one in mum and dad's room," he told Ron, "but only they and Bill know where the key is." He handed the key over to Hermione who eagerly began to inspect the runes placed upon it. "Well, come on then!" he exclaimed happily. "Let's go find this room."

"You're coming too?" Ron goggled at the two.

"Of course!" they exclaimed indignantly.

"You really didn't think we wouldn't help our honorable brother, do you?" George demanded.

"Yea, besides, we could find something that can help with our products," Fred said eagerly.

"Nothing in this house can help with simple pranks," Hermione said coolly, not liking the fact that the two would use this chance to find something that could make them money instead of just helping Harry.

To her surprise, both Fred and George grimaced. "Not pranks… well, not nice ones, anyway," Fred said.

"Pranks for the Death Eaters," George supplied. "We've been making stuff that could be considered weapons against the Death Eaters. And no, mum and dad don't know," he said when he saw Ron's face.

"What kind of weapons?" he asked curiously.

The twins shrugged. "Well, you know our portable swamp?" Fred asked. He waited for two nods. "We're designing something similar, only it creates a magma pool. It's for a large group of Death Eaters only, so very dangerous."

"Where on earth do you go to test these inventions?" Hermione asked.

Again came two shrugs. "We have our ways," George said airily as he began to lead them up to the attic, causing Ron and Hermione to wonder.

* * *

The old wand master drew in a deep breath on the twisted pipe in between in his lips. He held his breath for a moment, allowing the taste and smoke to last a bit longer before blowing out the blue smoke. Ah, Rutes, a nice, easy magical drug that always left him in a nice high. The world relaxed around him, but not enough for him to forget and blur everything around him. What a shame too, because that brat of a boy was in front of him.

Bert sighed as he blew the smoke away. Setting the pipe on a table, he brushed some dust off his chest and leaned forward to gaze at the boy in front of him, still wary of his leg. He had only basic knowledge in healing potions, and that meant he would need to deal with the pain. All other knowledge went to poisons and disguises.

"You coherent enough to help me get ready?" Harry asked gruffly.

He held Bert's crutches in his hands, ready to hand them over, but as the man gazed at him with blue glazed eyes, he wasn't sure if he should. He had little experience with drugs, and had no idea what the kind Bert was smoking would do to his mind. Bert certainly looked like he could pay attention, but could he help vocally? The only experience he had with drugs had been from a few of the older years in Gryffindor, and that was only because he walked in on them in an empty classroom when he had been looking for someplace to be alone. He had walked out after a moment, only taking the time to figure out what they were doing. That was about it.

"Course I am!" Bert snapped, glaring at Harry. He reached for the crutches and stood. "Didn't have that much," he grumbled, wrinkled face creased in a frown. "Come on, and pay attention. I already pulled out the pages to the potions you need, as well as gathered the necessary ingredients. If you're careful, you should have enough of everything to keep yourself in perfect disguise for up to three weeks before the potions go bad."

Hopefully he wouldn't be there that long to get out. Harry assumed it would perhaps take him a few days to get away from whatever trouble he got himself into, but he knew for sure he would be there for four days, as that was the date he had to give the item, but hopefully it wouldn't be too hard to get away unnoticed.

"Are you good at potions?" Bert asked as Harry gathered his bag and carefully placed the wrapped potion ingredients in the small black cauldron. It was a little bigger than a full grown man's hand.

Harry paused as he picked up the cauldron. No, he was absolutely horrid, but he could do decently enough on beginning potions. "I'll be fine," he said.

Bert sneered, the glaze in his eyes beginning to diminish. "If you run out of ingredients before you get out, best learn how to bargain."

Harry nodded as he followed Bert into the back. He allowed a smile to grace his face as he saw his wand, completely healed, sitting on the desk. He picked it up and grinned as a bright array of sparks and smoke erupted from his wand. While his new one was wonderful and felt great in his hands, and even more powerful than this one, his original always felt right.

"Take these," Bert said, motioning with his wand to a cupboard. A few items floated out and rested on the table in front of them. A black pocket knife made of some sort of wood, a silver pentagram necklace and a pair of black boots that looked like they would reach just below his knees. They seemed to be made from some sort of hide, something Harry didn't expect since usually he saw wizard boots made out of dragon scale. "This knife here is just a basic precaution. It'll cut through basically anything and won't break unless against somethin' real powerful. Also has a basic anti-summoning charm, but that's about it."

Harry took the knife carefully. To his amazement, a simple flick and it shot open. He glanced up at Bert. "Precaution," he murmured with a wry grin, "or a gift cause you're feeling a bit guilty about sending a sixteen year old into the underworld?"

Bert's face turned dangerous. "Listen here, sonny," he hissed. "I don't give a rat's ass whether or not you die. All I care about is you getting my package to the bastard before the deadline, and if that means giving you a few nice things then damn it I will."

Harry still felt amusement towards the old man. "Alright," he conceded, grinning a bit wider as the harsh look grew darker on Bert's face. "Thanks."

Bert sniffed before tapping the boots. "Check the heels," he said gruffly. "Press down in the circle."

Curiously, Harry did so. As soon as he pressed down on the circle design on the heel, it opened up, revealing a very tiny compartment. "Nice," he said.

"Place your Holly wand inside," Bert ordered. "It'll shrink to the appropriate length, but you can only put one item in each boot. It's made out of Porlock hide instead of their outrageous hair. Much more durable, and those horses are only good for their hide, even if their fur is used in some potions." Bert sneered at the thought of the black horses. They were simple nuisances, much like bugs as they bred so much but apparently had some sort of magical ability. The only thing Bert knew about them was that when their hide was used in clothing, it helped dull the sound of someone walking.

"What else do you think I should keep in this?" Harry asked after he put his wand in his right boot.

"A poison for suicide," Bert said immediately. He gazed at Harry seriously. "Just in case." To his surprise, Harry didn't argue. His face just turned grave as he accepted the green potion and put it in his left boot and put them on over his pant. "Surprised ye ain't arguing," Bert said as he watched Harry pack a pair of black robes and put one on just to see if it would fit as it did look a bit smaller than the other.

After Harry settled pulled his arms out of the robe sleeves, he shrugged, face dark. "Why should I argue about a possibility," he growled.

Bert let out a scoff. "Boy, go get me two glasses."

Unsurprised at the fact that Bert was ordering him to get him his alcohol, Harry was, however, surprised by the order to get two glasses. He came back a moment later with two glasses and a bottle of black alcohol. When he opened the tap, black smoke leaked out. He poured two glasses of the Smoking Midnight. Cautiously, he picked up the second glass.

"Drink it, boy," Bert growled, sounding eerily like Moody. "Drink, because although yer just a boy, yer doing a man's job."

Harry gazed into his cup for a moment. "Thank you," he said, truly grateful for those words. He didn't know why, but when he was told something like that, everything just seemed to fit. "Cheers," he said, tapping his glass against Bert and attempted to down the cup.

He ended up coughing most of it up but managed to swallow some. When he did, it felt like smoke was traveling through his body, heating him up with a strange readiness that Harry liked, even if it did make him slightly wary.

"Ah, Smoking Midnight," Bert said, easily downing it all. "It warms the soul." He gave a dark grin as he saw Harry blink a bit slowly. "It's the best sort of stuff for a person about to get into a fight. Many young men drink this before getting into a gang bang." Giving a laugh, Bert handed the pentagram necklace to Harry. "Wear it at all times. It's my mark, and people will recognize it. They'll think you're my messenger boy and will not question."

"Have you gone to the Pit before?" Harry asked, sitting down.

"Ten times," Bert answered, pouring himself another glass. "Started when I was thirty."

Harry breathed out through his mouth in thought. "So you're eighty now?"

Bert just lifted a brow. "Who said I went in order?" Harry remained silent. "Now, let's think of a name before we retire. Its best not to go to an event like this completely exhausted."

Harry completely agreed.

* * *

"Look at all this junk," Ron moaned as the four of them scoured the attic. He brushed aside some dust, only to let out a loud yelp as his fingers touched some cobweb. The act sent a tiny black spider skittering. As soon as he caught sight of the spider, he let out a girlish squeak and tumbled back. In the process, he ran into some dusty items that teetered over.

"Ron!" Hermione hissed in distress. "Would you please be a bit more careful?"

"There was a huge spider," Ron protested as he rose a shaking had to point toward the arachnid. When the twins took sight of the spider, they laughed mockingly and easily squashed the spider that was little bigger than a pea with their shoe. Ron shuddered.

"There, there," Fred said happily, patting Ron on the back a bit harder than necessary. The scary monster is all gone."

Ron shoved Fred away. "Git."

Hermione cleared her throat to get the attention of the others. "If we may," she said impatiently. She really didn't want to be up here, nor did she want to find this hidden room that kept what were probably horrible dark objects and books that Harry thought he had to learn just to survive this war. It was distressing to know that her best friend was walking down such a dark path. "Here it is," Hermione continued, indicating to a large painting. It was at least five feet wide and high, and was covered in a solid gold frame, but it was so dusty that the gold looked gray, as did the painting of the beautiful Black.

"Open wide," George said happily as he brushed the dust away from the mouth of Elladora Black. Her succulent red lips were parted into a partly open mouthed smile that seemed just big enough for the pole to be inserted. The four of them, or at least Hermione and Ron, were expecting to hear a rip as the pole was shoved through the painting, but instead it seemed go through it like a ghost. George gave it a swift turn and, what sounded like a rusty lock being open, the portrait swung out, just like the Fat Lady.

George held out his wand, just in case, and led them into the hidden room. It was the size of a small walk in closet, but with all the items stored inside, there was barely any room for five people. Luckily with just the four of them, they could walk in and not bang into anything if they were careful.

"Amazing," Hermione whispered, staring at silver crown that was placed on a purple pillow inside of a case. It was covered in diamonds and purple gems. There were three spikes going up, and on each tip was a black onyx.

"Fletcher would die to get in here," Ron said in awe, reaching out to touch a statue of a dragon, only to leap back as it made a snapping motion. Glaring at the brownish red stoned statue, Ron turned away in a huff. "How are we supposed to know what'll attack and what won't?" he asked.

"Just try a few revealing spells," George supplied. "Try this… _Fateor._" With a backward swish with his wand that pointed at a case of vials filled with brilliant colored potions. Each vial gave off a different sense. "Just need to learn the different feels," George said. "But these are all poisons, and dangerous ones at that."

Nodding in thanks, both Ron and Hermione got started and began to look around.

"What exactly are we looking for?" Ron asked after a few minutes right after getting done with inspecting a book that held some curses made by the Blacks.

"Something that can help us help Harry," Hermione answered as she licked her lips in thought. She gazed at the book Ron was looking at. "We'll need to learn those," she said.

"Not all of them, at least," Ron said, nose scrunching up as he read a curse that caused a person to grow a sort of parasite that was sentient. It was a slow process, and very painful, but it could keep an enemy under control and constant scrutiny.

"Yes, but most," Hermione said, finding quite a lot of spells that weren't as bad. This book was most likely stored in here because each spell was written down by a Black. "Do you remember how angry Mrs. Lestrange was? We need to be able to make our enemies falter in surprise or anger so that we can, well, take them out." Hermione faltered, embarrassed by her own words.

Ron patted her back in comfort. "Alright," he said, placing the book in his satchel that he had brought with him. "Anything else that interests you?" he asked, hoping to get Hermione into her element. The girl was usually a sucker for new knowledge.

Hermione smiled her thanks before grabbing a book on different magical creatures and beings, and that didn't just include the usual vampires and werewolves. "In the last war, You-Know-Who had a lot of dark creatures on his side."

Hermione didn't need to say more, Ron understood. Taking hold of the book, Ron flipped it open at a random page. It revealed a creature that seemed to be made out of nature. Wood, leaves, vines and rocks made up this creature. It was a beast that could be summoned through a ritual in a forest, which reminded Ron of the rocks he had seen in the store at Diagon Alley that could briefly summon an animal for a few minutes. Just enough time to confuse or take down an enemy. Thinking of the store, his hand went to his pocket unconsciously, his fingers tracing the smooth stone he had taken during the chaos. It was one of many, but he always had one on him, just incase.

Over with Fred and George, the two were huddled over some rare potion ingredients that were packaged very carefully. They took great care in placing the items in their own bag that seemed to bulge.

"Do you think he'd like that?" George muttered quietly to Fred as he gestured to a metallic mask.

It had nothing pretty or eye catching about it, other than the chain it was connected to be put around ones head. It only covered half the face, down to the nose, but it had a strange sense about it. The detailed instructions on a piece of parchment proved that this was a rare find. The mask, according the parchment said that it could temporarily give you the allusion of being someone else, and only after having a clear picture of who it was that you wanted. It only lasted for thirty minutes, half the time of polyjuice potion, and didn't physically change you, but it was still a nice prize. In fact, this whole house was a treasure chest, and Fred and George were under no delusions that they were incredibly lucky to get the chance to explore an old pureblood family house.

"Take it," Fred muttered, barely glancing at his twin to see if he would hide it away before the other two saw them. Instead, he was eyeing some crooked and bent looking knives in a small case. As if their eerie appearance weren't enough, dark magic could practically be felt coming off the items in waves. Fred shivered. Nasty business, whatever those were.

"We should leave now," Hermione said quietly, shoulders hunched and eyes darting around almost as if someone would catch them.

None of them blamed the young muggle born. This magic, this filth that they were willingly educating themselves about… it left them feeling dirty, defiled and so much more. It would take so much more than an apology to get anyone to ever forgive or trust them again, but it was all for Harry and the chance to survive this war.

"Right, let's go." Ron, after some hesitation, wrapped an arm around Hermione, hugging the girl closer in a protective embrace. In return, the young witch squeezed his arm in appreciation.

If it had been any other situation, Fred and George would have loved to make kissy faces or perhaps make some comment, but this was not the time. So, with whatever items the teens had grabbed being carefully hidden, the four of them crept out of their little secret place.

"I'll hold onto this," George said solemnly, pocketing the device Kreacher gave them. "Don't worry," he told the two younger teens when they shot him a look. "We'll be here more than enough when you two are here, but since we're out of school we'll need it more than you."

Reluctant, Hermione and Ron nodded.

"Should we make a code in case one of us wishes to come back?" Hermione asked, biting her lip.

Ron scratched at his arm, uncomfortable. "I feel dirty," he admitted.

George grabbed his younger brother by the shoulders and brought him face to face, expression firm and strict. It was a scary look, one that Ron had never seen before, and it frightened him. "If you feel even the slight bit hesitant on one thing, no matter what it is, don't do it," he warned, fingers tightening. "I don't care if you think it seems childish to act afraid, but don't do it. These are things that I would normally beat you into the ground for even looking at, but this isn't the time. Please, Ron, don't think you have to force yourself to do anything."

Ron flinched, blue eyes glancing into George's brown eyes before darting over to Fred's duplicate brown. Fred gave him a small nod, face just as serious, if not more grim. "Alright," Ron promised, relaxing a bit as he felt Hermione lay a comforting hand on his arm. "Thanks," he muttered, finally looking away.

"Don't worry, we'll be here to talk whenever you need us," George promised, finally releasing his brother. "You too," he addressed Hermione.

Hermione took a deep breath, holding the covered items in her bag close to her chest. "Thank you." She gave them both a hesitant smile, but lurking in her deep brown eyes was determination.

They all held that gleam now, even if all they really were, were scared children.

* * *

It was raining, much to Harry's distaste, but he walked proudly, face half covered by a thick black scarf with fierce green eyes glaring out at everyone he passed. He was beyond pissed, having to do this, but there was no use fretting about it. He was in this mess, and he would deal with it.

Didn't mean he wouldn't glare at every prejudice git he passed, though.

Green eyes moved from the passing shoppers, narrowing in on the end of the island. Despite the rain, there were plenty of people about, all with fancy umbrella's and the like, but as he neared the end of the island, where a large building rested half on the land and half above the sea, there were far less cocky rich wizards and witches, and instead wizards and witches that truly looked like they earned the right to carry a wand. These people, they were tough, dangerous, but they weren't what Harry was expecting. Suspicious glances were thrown everywhere, at himself included, but none were about to pick a fight. And why should they? These people weren't pathetic bullies, looking for attention. These… beings were people who were just looking to survive in their dangerous little world.

For some reason, it excited Harry.

Striding up to the unnamed building, Harry walked in with his back straight and head held high. The heat of the room hit him immediately, and eagerly he lowered the scarf to uncover his face. A few looks were thrown his way, but mostly to see who had opened the door, but after that he was ignored.

Harry gazed around. It looked like a large pub, but near the back he saw a door that, when opened, revealed many staircases that led both down and up. Rearranging his pack to make it a bit comfortable on his shoulder's, he strode over to the front bar stool, ignoring the twitching thing on his back.

To his great misfortune, the carpet had to be brought along. No matter where he went, the rug followed him, even if it seemed reluctant and angry at the idea. So Harry had to forcefully roll it up and tie it together with magic rope that would not release the blasted thing. The darn flying carpet had been attached to his pack, and was now squirming to get free.

What'll ye have?" a great brute of a man asked as Harry dropped into his seat and pulled his arms onto the counter.

_Sit at the front, act like you know what you're doing there, and a big man, Samuel, will come to you, _Bert had said. _The Pit has opened, he greets everyone now just incase they come for the entrance. When you're there, say…_

"The sea has been calm lately, so perhaps to celebrate some White Wash would be best?"

The large man scratched at his greasy brown hair, brown eyes narrowing as he really took in Harry's form. A large, pale hand tapped the counter. "The sea has been more temperamental than usual," he snapped. "Sure you got your facts right, sonny?"

Harry fought back a grimace at the derogative sonny statement. This man could really make you feel insecure with a quick lash of his tongue, even if it was what was meant to be said next in this dangerous little game. One slip up and, well…

"I get my facts from Branwyn, the old crone." Harry made sure his tone sounded affectionate, as he was naming a sea god and was sure to provoke anybody's temper in such an area where people were raised right by the water. Also Bert had told him so. "You know how forgetful she is," Harry finished, meeting the man's eyes, glancing quickly at the badge on his chest to see that this really was Samuel.

_He'll be silent for a full minute. Don't look away or make a sound, you're being tested._

It was true, because Harry was soon in a staring contest with this monstrous man, but it certainly didn't feel like just one minute.

"Don't look like much," Samuel finally sneered, taking out a shot glass and pouring a clear liquid into it and sliding it toward Harry. "This ain't some ally fight club, boy."

_The liquid is just water. Raise it slightly, as if in toast and down it. If he hasn't already asked why you're there, mention my name and that you have come in my stead._

Harry raised the water, tilting it slightly before downing it all quickly, not that it was hard, being water and all, but he did see Samuel looking pleased that even though he was young, he knew and had enough respect to do the code properly.

"My master sends me in his stead," Harry said, pulling out the necklace from under his robe and scarf to show Bert's symbol.

Samuel sucked in his breath, meaty finger's curling. He leaned closer to Harry, but not in any way to attract the attention of the other drinkers. "His business is no one but his own," he growled, glaring down at Harry.

Harry bit his lip. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. He had done the code, like Bert said, and should have been led down, again like Bert had said. Harry took in Samuel's angry posture, comprehending after a few minutes of mental debate.

This man was Bert's friend.

"Bad experiment," Harry said carefully. "Spell went awry and lost feeling in his leg."

Samuel leaned back and started cleaning a cup. "Damn it," he hissed, glaring at a wall. "Put that away," he said after a moment, referring to Bert's necklace. "Come on, boy, you need a real man's drink."

Harry took that cue to stand up and take a firmer hold on his pack as Samuel gave a swift nod to another burly man. Once his shift was taken for the moment, Samuel led Harry to the back. It was like a large room of staircases that led in every direction. Harry glanced up; taking in all the hallways that were made into ways that only magic could make this possible. Much like the Weasley house.

"Get ready, boy," Samuel warned as he led Harry passed all the different staircases and down the only hallway in the room. "I'll be honest," Samuel grunted, "you don't look like much, but I've been here too long to realize that appearances can be deceiving."

Harry didn't say anything; he just followed the large man through the only door at the end. To his surprise, it revealed the kitchen. Men and women were working diligently, barely sparing the two a glance, but two men at the very back next to a large, unused and old fashioned stove in the very corner gave him very dark looks.

"A kid?" the one on the right of the stove growled. He had bleached blond hair and pale skin. He was on the skinny side, but full of muscle with scars everywhere. His battered brown robes gave him the appearance of a traveler.

The one of the left gave a snort. "More kids this year than any other," he drawled, blue eyes glancing at the ceiling. This one had reddish brown hair and tattoo's covering most of his face.

"About time, too," Samuel growled, running his hand through Harry's hair as if he were a friend's pet that had suddenly interested him. Harry stepped away, shaking his head and throwing Samuel a glare. The large man just laughed. "More bodies, but the ones that survive will live on to keep our legend." He gave a devilish grin, yellowing and chipped teeth make him all the more repulsive. "Show them yer master's sign."

With a nod, Harry brought out Bert's necklace. The blond one brought out his wand, signifying that he was about to cast a spell as to not startle him. Without saying a word, the man sent a quick flick Harry's way. Harry's skin glowed for a moment, along with all his belongings.

A scroll poofed into existence as soon as the glow faded, Samuel snatched it out of the air. Unrolling it, he looked through it carefully. "A flying carpet?" he asked with amusement, finally glancing at Harry's back and taking in the quivering rug. "Heard those were rare."

Harry could feel himself tense. Great, another test. "A kid sold it to me," he said smoothly, trying with all his might to hide how nervous he felt. It had suddenly just occurred to him that people would know Harry Potter had escaped from Diagon Alley on a flying carpet. "A few towns back, some kid looked real beat up and needing money. Offered the carpet and there you go."

The two men behind Samuel exchanged glances. The kid wasn't using any glamours or spells to hide his appearance, and everybody in this dingy little town of theirs were connected to the dark in some way, and no matter how small, none would willingly help Harry Potter, so this kid couldn't be the lights savior. Beside, curse scars could never be covered up with an illusion, and this kid had no scar.

"Know which town?" the blond drawled.

Harry glanced at him. "Looking for a flying carpet as well?"

The man just grinned. "Might be."

Harry just returned the dark grin with a cool look. "The kid was beat up, probably trying to sell something he stole from his folks after running off. Doubt he would have anything else of value, but if you must know, I have no idea. Like I said, it was a few towns back, and he wanted Muggle money."

The guards frowned at him, but Samuel threw the two dark looks. "Enough about that," he barked, eyeing the chief's bustling about, almost as if he were daring them to glance their way. "Sign your name here." He placed the parchment on a table and produced a familiar looking quill.

_Most contracts need to be signed in blood, so don't act so surprised, _Bert had said, eyeing Harry's scarred hand warningly as he said it.

Harry took the quill, nose scrunching up in distaste, but he signed away with the name Bert had chosen for him. His eyes barely even glanced at the words. It was just a list of his possessions. As soon as he pulled away, the scroll rolled into itself and burst into purple flame, disappearing completely.

"Done," Samuel said simply, giving Harry a hard look that clearly meant he better not screw this up for Bert. Turning away, Samuel began to fumble about with the different knobs on the stove. He seemed to have an order, because after turning the last knob, runes began to glow a bright gold for a moment before white flame produced from the stove. Samuel muttered a spell in a type of language Harry didn't think could really exist (it sounded like clicks, sucking and hissing), the white flame turned gold.

_You'll have to walk into the flame, but make sure you bow… don't look at me like that! I'm not talking about getting on your hands and knees, you damn kid._

Remembering what Bert had told him, Harry offered a swift bow, but his rebellious body did not permit him to lower himself too much. Once he straightened up once more, he strode into the fire and felt himself being transported downward.

"Interesting kid," the blond bodyguard muttered, eyes looking into Samuel's.

"Don't even think about it," Samuel growled. "We have nothing but our suspicions. Besides, even if he is the Potter kid, you really think he won't get caught down there?"

"Or act that way?" the brown haired body guard said, watching the flames disappear.

Samuel grunted, eyes glancing at the uninterested cooks. All workers swore an oath of secrecy and had grown up in this world of illegal activities. They were of no threat.

"Don't matter if he's Harry Potter or some street rat, because the Pit has accepted him as Hyde Bastel."

"Appropriate," the blond said after a moment.

"Aye, and he does belong to Bert, whoever he is." Samuel gave another grunt. "Also, the lad has a Cracklin'." The two guards narrowed their eyes in thought and amusement. They could hardly wait to see this years events. Bert gave a rough cough. "Need to get back to me post. More'll be showing."

And with that, the two bodyguards got back into position and Samuel strode back to his post at the bar.

* * *

AN: _Porlock – _A type of magical horse that comes in all colors but are smaller than normal horses. It's their hair that's the most valuable since a lot of potions use their hair.

I see a lot of fics where Ginny is always in the scoop with Ron, Hermione and Harry, but not here. Ginny was always the tag along in my eyes, and in a real serious situation, Ron would never allow his baby sister to even think about what they're about to do. And if Ron is like that, I doubt the older brothers would be much different. But its ok, she'll have her own way of helping out, even if she is a bit blinded by her crush on Harry.

Also, a lot of smart people (hit wizards, aurors, ect), are really good at picking up something after only one clue. Flying carpets are rare, Harry's story would have been heard by then thanks to the Prophet, so their instant suspicions are understandable, but they can do nothing because they bound to let all into the Pit if they know the code.

Also, what's this Cracklin'? Super important, and more so the reason why Harry truly wasn't stopped.


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